


Not One

by CJ aka WritinginCT (WritinginCT)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Divorce, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Redemption, Romance, post-DH
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-03-31 19:39:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13981935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritinginCT/pseuds/CJ%20aka%20WritinginCT
Summary: A chance meeting gives Hermione and Draco a new beginning and a glimmer of real happiness, but can it survive unforgiving friends and foes alike?





	1. A Chance Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Mentions of canon torture
> 
> Notes: Canon Compliant through DH and Epilogue but ignores the HEA and CC

“Everything appears to be in order, Mr. Malfoy,” the portly lawyer said from across the wide oak desk as he neatened the sheaf of parchments Draco had brought with him to the meeting.

“How long until we see a judge?” Draco asked.

“Four weeks to get the legal separation once the papers are filed on Monday. Nothing I can do about that, I’m afraid, it’s the law. Then it will depend on how quickly we can come to terms with your wife to finalize.”

Draco nodded. “I understand. I would appreciate your attending to this as soon as legally possible.”

The barrister stood and extended his hand. “I will give it my highest priority, sir.”

Draco shook the man’s hand and picked up his briefcase. He left the office, lost in his own thoughts. He would be glad when his divorce became final, his marriage one of the last remnants of a lifestyle which had grown to completely and thoroughly repulse him.

He pulled himself up short upon seeing a familiar face at the receptionist’s desk. He watched as she opened her bulging satchel and handed the receptionist a thick pile of parchment, her expression sad.

He watched as she concluded her business and was struggling to re-close her satchel, the strained buckles not cooperating.

He chose that moment to step into view. As he purposely met her eyes, he said simply, “Granger.”

\-----

Hermione was tired and she wanted to curse the stupid buckles on her bag for not closing properly even after she had removed the thick wad of documents she was dropping off here at the end of the business day. Her surprise knew no bounds when she looked up at the sound of her name. Of all the people she could possibly run into in her divorce lawyer’s office she would never in a million years have thought Draco Malfoy.

“Malfoy,” escaped her lips in reply before she really thought about it.

\-----

He plastered an innocuous grin on his face as he stepped towards Hermione.

He met the eyes of the nervous receptionist and ticked his head to get her to leave. She hied off without hesitation, leaving them alone.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he teased as he stepped over to where Hermione was still fighting with the buckles on her satchel.

\-----

Hermione looked up and met his eyes for the briefest of moments before refocusing on the task of her unruly buckles.

“I could say the same,” she said quietly.

\-----

Draco ticked his head and said with a slight smirk, “Well, he _is_ the best divorce lawyer in wizarding Britain. And given that neither you or I are stupid people, he’s the man to have if you need him.”

“True,” she replied, still struggling with a buckle.

He stepped closer and gestured towards her bag, “May I?”

Hermione let out a breath and nodded.

Deftly, his strong graceful fingers got the irksome buckle closed. “There,” he said, “all fixed, although you may want to consider an enlarging charm on the inside of that briefcase, I think it’s reached maximum capacity.”

“Thanks,” she replied and reached for something benign to make conversation with, “so… how is your son? Is he enjoying his second year at Hogwarts?”

He nodded. “He is and very glad to no longer be a first-year.”

“First year is always the hardest away from home. Rose had fairly easy time of it, but Hugo is not enjoying it as much.”

Draco was about to reply when the receptionist chose that moment to return even as the clock on the wall chimed five. He found himself oddly annoyed at that, wanting to see where their interrupted conversation would have taken them.

Hermione slung her bag over her shoulder and said, “I guess that’s our cue to leave. It was… good to see you, Malfoy.

“You as well, Granger,” he replied honestly as she turned and walked out the door.

He stared at the closed door for just the briefest of moments before quickly throwing it open and himself heading out. He hurriedly looked left and right and spied Hermione a little ways down the block. He called her name and she stopped and turned towards him.

He jogged the half dozen yards to where she stood and asked impulsively, “Would you like to go get a drink… with me?”

\-----

Unbeknown to Draco, Hermione was also a little at odds over their interrupted conversation. She had never seen Draco Malfoy so relaxed, so comfortable in his own skin. And she had certainly never before been the recipient of his charm and charisma. It made her wonder why he suddenly felt she was worthy of it after all the long years that they had known each other.

She heard her name from behind her and she turned to see Draco hurrying to catch up with her. Her confusion knew no bounds and it only got worse when he asked with a grin, “Would you like to go get a drink… with me?”

She blinked in surprise, then decided to see where this was all leading. “Alright,” she replied simply.

\-----

They walked in silence the few blocks to a little-known pub, neither really knowing what to say. They found an out of the way table in the pub and shucked their coats. The bored barman approached their table and looked to Hermione.

“Firewhisky, neat, please,” she ordered without hesitation.

Draco gave her an amused look. “Better make that two,” he said to the barman.

The barman left to get their drinks and the table grew quiet.

Draco broke the ice. “So, ah, you and Weasley, too, I’m guessing?

Hermione frowned a little. She wasn’t really ready to discuss the end of her marriage with anyone, let alone Draco Malfoy of all people. But the “too” on the end of his question let her know she wasn’t alone in her failure, so she answered, “Yeah. It’s time.”

He nodded. “I understand. I waited until my son was well-established at school and now that he is, as you said, it’s time. She and I just want very different things in this life.”

Before Hermione could reply the barman delivered their drinks. Draco raised his glass in toast, “Here’s to each of us having a new chapter beginning in our lives.”

“I can toast to that,” Hermione said honestly as she clinked glasses with him.

They sipped their drinks in companionable silence, and Draco’s eye caught something on the wall. “Oh, hey, darts. Do you play?”

“I used to, haven’t in years. You?”

“Same here. Shall we give it a go?” he asked with a grin.

“Are feeling alright?”

“Never better, why do you ask?”

“You’ve been nicer to me today than you have been in the entire time that we’ve known each other.”

“Oh. I didn’t think of it that way. I just… you know what never mind, this was probably a bad idea,” he said quickly and belted back the rest of his drink. He stood and threw some coins on the table and picked up his coat and briefcase.

Hermione reached over and put her hand on his. “Draco, wait. Don’t go, I just don’t understand. Make me understand.”

He looked down at her hand, pointedly trying to ignore the warm tingling sensation her innocent touch was generating, he couldn’t remember the last time a woman had touched him outside of a business handshake. He dropped his case and coat back on the chair and sat back down. He met her eyes and said, “We’re going to need more whisky.”

\-----

They were nursing their third firewhisky when Draco finally opened up.

“Do you ever have nightmares about what happened?” he asked, his eyes on his glass not meeting hers.

“Of course I do. I have yet to find someone who was there that doesn’t.”

“I have them,” he said as he raised his glass to sip before continuing, “every night.”

“That can’t be easy,” Hermione replied gently.

“It’s not. But I look at them as part of my punishment, for the horrible things I did. A lifetime penance for things I can’t go back and undo.”

He saw that she didn’t know what to say so he continued, “Since then I’ve tried to be a decent person and an above board and honest businessman. I’ve made myself be more… open minded and accepting. I married Astoria because she was from a good family but didn’t have a pureblood mindset like my father. I thought she’d be a good partner, someone who’d help me stay on the respectable straight and narrow. But she doesn’t understand what it was like and she won’t talk to me about that time, doesn’t want to hear that I did vile, horrible things, just wants me to bury the past. She doesn’t understand that it’s there for me every minute of every day, that there’s no escaping it or hiding from it,” his hand unconsciously rubbed his forearm where his Dark Mark had been burned into his skin by Voldemort as he spoke, “and she most certainly doesn’t understand why I am so adamant that my son not be raised anything like I was. No child of mine will ever be taught to hate like I was, not ever.”

Hermione reached over and placed a warm hand on his. She could see the hint of tears in his eyes and hear the raw emotion in his voice. This was not an act he was putting on for her; it was genuine remorse and shame. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out with her. And for what it’s worth my daughter informs me that your son is a kind and funny boy, full of love for everyone.”

He gave her a wane grin. “Then I have done one thing right in my whole miserable life.”

Hermione belted back the rest of her drink and teased, “Two things.”

Draco chuckled. “And what exactly is the second?”

She waved to get the barman’s attention for another round and with a little smirk replied, “Asking me out for a drink tonight.”

\-----

They were playing darts, not well given the amount of firewhisky they had consumed, but they were laughing and having fun trying to one up each other. For a just a moment they were young and carefree.

Hermione squinted at the board over her dart, her tongue trapped between her teeth as she concentrated. She let the dart fly, wildly missing the target. As she moved so Draco could shoot she said, “So you didn’t really answer my earlier question, you know….”

Draco looked down at the darts in his hand for a moment before ticking his head to look at her. “I don’t know if I have a good answer. When I saw you in that office I just… I wanted to show you I guess….”

“Show me what?”

He looked back down to his hands and said with a hint of shame in his voice, “That I’m not the same prat I was back then. That I’ve grown up. That I’m no longer beholden to my family’s hatred.”

Hermione reached over and gave his hand a squeeze. “I think the fact that we’re here, seemingly enjoying each other’s company speaks to that. The Draco Malfoy from school would never have done this.”

Draco put his hand on top of hers and stoked her hand with his thumb. “No, he wouldn’t have.”

\-----

He insisted on apparating with her to her doorstep.

“A gentleman always sees a lady home,” Draco had said, drunkenly offering his arm. Gamely she looped her arm around his, feeling a bit torn over the fact that she actually enjoyed his exquisite manners. Manners that had been on display all evening regardless of the amount of whisky they consumed.

She thought of home and a moment later they were on her front sidewalk with a little pop.

Draco looked at the drab little townhouse that was one of many little drab townhouses. It surprised him. He expected her to live in some sort of cheerful little cottage or something, not a cold, utilitarian row house in Muggle London.

He met her eyes and could see that she caught his reaction. He decided to continue with honesty, as it had seemed to serve them well so far. “Not what I expected, Granger.”

Hermione looked at the row of boring townhouses and frowned a little, her mood sobering. “It’s just a rental until I can figure things out.”

Draco turned to face her. He reached up and brushed her cheek with his knuckle in an oddly familiar gesture and promised, “It’ll sort itself out.”

She sniffed back her emotions and said, “New chapters, right?”

Draco took her hands in his and gave a squeeze of support. “New chapters.”


	2. The Start of Something Unexpected

 

Hermione’s assistant Abigail knocked respectfully at her office door.

“Come in,” Hermione answered, all the while preoccupied by the parchment scroll she was reading.

She only looked up when something hit her desk with a gentle clunk.

The enormous bouquet of flowers was impressive, simply impressive. A rainbow’s assortment of rare mixed flowers, each more varied and exotic than the next completely blocked Hermione’s view of her amused assistant.

“These just arrived for you, Minister. They’ve cleared security.”

Hermione stood, her mouth agape at the sight. She reached for the card as she said absently, “Thank you, Abigail.”

Abigail left with a little grin on her face, it had been entirely too long since anyone had sent her boss flowers in her opinion.

Hermione bent close to the flowers and inhaled their heady sent. The flowers were beautiful, and she couldn’t fathom who would be sending her such a ridiculously extravagant treat and she wondered pessimistically who wanted something from her now.

\-----

The card quite cleared up that little mystery.

_Granger,_

_I enjoyed myself the other night. I hope you did as well. I’d like to see you again, but I’ll understand if that’s not something you want._

_Most sincerely,_

_DM_

Hermione didn’t quite know what to think. She _had_ enjoyed herself with Draco. He had been fun and attentive, with courtly manners that she had only ever been the recipient of once in her life when she had worn a periwinkle gown and been on the arm of Viktor Krum. And if she were to be completely honest with herself she had enjoyed herself more with Draco in that one evening than she had in years with Ron.

She sat down in her chair, the flower’s card in her hand. Her emotions torn. If it had been anyone other than Draco Malfoy she wouldn’t have hesitated to say yes to another chance to see them. But it was Draco, and she knew that there wasn’t a person in the wizarding world who would understand if they saw them together. She had to decide.

She pulled her chair back closer to her desk and picked up a fresh piece of parchment.

\-----

Draco grinned as he read the short note that the little owl had diligently delivered. He gave the little fellow a gentle scratch before reaching for a parchment and sketching out a map. 

\-----

Hermione didn’t not exactly what to expect as she stood at the door of the…, well, _mansion_ , that was Draco’s London home.

She nervously smoothed her dress, wishing suddenly that she had gone out and gotten something new, something expensive, instead of wearing her favorite simple brown sheath, the one she like because it matched her eyes. Finally she plucked up her courage and lifted the heavy door knocker.

\-----

She was surprised when Draco himself opened the door. She expected a servant or house elf given his wealth and status.

He was dressed more casually that she had ever seen adult Draco Malfoy - just simple black trousers and a maroon dress shirt with its neck button undone and sleeves rolled up just so. He looked as relaxed and comfortable as she was nervous and insecure.

“Granger! You found it all right?” he said with a warm smile. She couldn’t lie, it was _nice_ hearing him say her name so excitedly.

“I did. Your directions were impeccable.”

He gestured over his head as if reading from a invisible marquee, “Draco Malfoy, Mapmaker Extraordinaire.”

It was such an oddly playful thing for him to do and she couldn’t help but giggle.

He laughed along with her and stepped back so she could enter. “Come in, Timly has been cooking all afternoon and is completely preoccupied in the kitchen or she would have gotten the door.”

As she stepped inside she asked, “Timly?”

He shut the door and helped her out of her cloak. “My house elf,” at her slight frown he amended, “my free, well-paid and well-looked after house elf. She’s been with me since my son was born. She is very excited to be cooking for the Minister of Magic.”

Hermione smiled. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

He offered her his arm chivalrously and chuckled, “Why does that not surprise me? Come on, I’ll give you the grand tour.”

\-----

The mansion was not at all what she expected on the inside. She had it in her head it would be a dark and foreboding place like the horrid Malfoy mansion she’d been taken to during the war. Instead she found lavish rich warm woods and light, creamy walls. Gentle artworks of sunny moving landscapes and ocean scenes were tastefully hung, the furnishings and drapery in deep navy and gold.

She walked around the grand salon, enjoying the art and antiques in the room. She could tell that most were enchanted in some way or another but she had no sense of dark magic. Not an iota.

The mansion had a homey, welcoming feel to it, despite its size. She thought that Astoria must have put a lot of effort into making it so.

Hermione turned to see Draco watching, an expectant look on his face. She threw his own words back at him with a smile, “Not what I expected, Malfoy.”

He shook his head and chuckled. He held out his hand, “Come, I’ve saved the best for last.”

Gamely she took his hand, trying not to notice how warm it felt or the casual strength it held or the way if just felt _right_ in hers.

\-----

Hermione wasn’t the only one struggling to not notice. Draco had to work not to let the surprise show on his face as the warm tingling sensation he had first experienced in the bar completely engulfed his hand that now held hers. He didn’t quite know what to make of it. He had never experienced anything like it with any other woman he had ever been with.

\-----

The hallway was long, with tall windows that would let in copious amounts of sunshine during the day. There were several suits of armor in between the windows.

As they approached the first one Hermione shrieked and scrambled for her wand as the armor performed an elaborate bow and a hollow voice boomed out from within it, “AT YOUR SERVICE, MILADY.”

Draco was in stitches and Hermione didn’t know whether she wanted the hex the armor or Draco or both.

Finally Draco contained his mirth and said, “Sorry, I totally forgot about that. They’re harmless.”

Hermione stepped closer to the armor and peered into its empty helmet. “I almost blasted it. Scared me half to death.”

“They only do that with new people. Say this: Until we meet again in another life, Sir Knight.”

Hermione looked skeptical but repeated the phrase. The armor straighted back into its straight steadfast position and stilled.

She chuckled and turned to Draco. “Was this what you wanted to show me?”

“No. It’s actually the room at the other end of this hallway.”

With a little grimace she asked, “They’re all going to do that, aren’t they?”

They ran the gamut, silencing noisy armor along the way and finally made their way to the end of the hallway and a wide door.

\-----

Draco opened the heavy oak door with a flourish. “I seem to remember you liking the library a lot.”

He pulled out his wand and flicked it, a small ball of white light flying into the dark room before them. The ball floated from chandelier to chandelier, lighting up the entire enormous room. A room that was floor to ceiling in book laden shelves.

There were several comfortable chairs for reading as well as a big reading table right in the middle with stacks of fresh parchment and quills at the ready for note-taking.

Hermione stepped into the room, her mouth hanging open as she looked around in awe.

She ran her fingers reverently across the spines of a shelf full of books. She saw titles ranging from Quidditch to dragon keeping to healing. Some of the books were newer, contemporary works, others were old, so very old.

She turned towards him, a wide, happy smile on her face. “This is amazing, simply amazing.”

“I thought you’d appreciate it. And just for your own… piece of mind, there’s no dark magic to be found here, actually there isn’t any in the entire house.”

She stepped closer and said honestly, “I didn’t think there was. Not for a moment. Your home is beautiful and warm.”

“You really think so?”

“Absolutely. Astoria did a lovely job with it all.”

Draco’s ears reddened a bit and he looked away nervously.

“Did I say something wrong?” Hermione asked, seeing his reaction.

He met her eyes and admitted. “Astoria has never been in this house. Neither has anyone else other than some workmen, my son, Timly, and now… you.”

“Really? So… so all of this is your doing? Your choices?”

“Yes. I bought the property a few years ago, it had been owned by a dark wizard up to his ears in gambling debt who was more than willing to sell it to me for some quick gold. I stripped it to the studs getting rid of every evil little jinx and hex he had on it and rebuilt it all. I kept it private, my own… safe haven for me and my son. And once I decided to divorce, I made it my home. That’s why I sent you the map, it’s warded to be hidden. You can apparate to the front door now that you’ve been invited in.”

“Wow. I feel especially honored to be here for dinner knowing all that. Your first official guest.”

He reached down and took her hands in his. Giving them a little squeeze, “I wanted you to see this, Hermione. See… me, I guess.

Hermione squeezed back and replied gently, “I’m starting to see, Draco. And…,” she started but clammed up at the last moment.

“And?” he prompted.

“I _like_ what I see.”


	3. A New Chapter

Abigail stuck her head in Hermione’s office. “Minister, Mr. Draco Malfoy is here to see you, he doesn’t have an appointment, but you have nothing on the books until that three o’clock meeting with the aurors.”

“Please send him in, thank you.”

A moment later Abigail showed Draco into her office and quietly closed the door behind her giving them privacy.

“I hope you don’t mind my dropping in without an appointment, I was in the building on other business and thought I would say hello,” he said with a grin.

Hermione stood and gestured to the comfortable leather chairs near the fireplace at the far end of her office. “Not at all, Draco. Please sit.”

They made themselves comfortable and she asked, “The St. Mungo’s project?”

He nodded. “The permits are driving everyone on the committee mental and I think a lot is getting lost from person to person so I took it upon myself to get a list of what is specifically needed right from the man in charge of permits himself. No middle men and nothing lost in translation that way and I can get it all sorted properly.”

“Is there anything I can help with? I know the hospital is in dire need of the new wing you’re building.”

Draco shook his head. “No, thank you though. We’ll muddle through.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind sending a few owls to light some fires.”

“I’m positive. To be honest? I don’t want anyone thinking our… friendship is being used for persuasion or political gain. We’ve both worked too hard to build our clean reputations.”

Hermione sighed. “You’re right. There’s been so much corruption in the past that even something innocent like this could be construed wrongly. And we have both worked too hard to get to where we are now.”

Draco nodded. “Exactly. Oh, by the way, are you going to the Hogwarts scholarship fund reception Friday afternoon?”

Hermione made a face. “Yes.”

“Not a fan, Minister?” he teased.

“I just always seem to get stuck talking to the most boring people there. Not to mention that half the time I don’t get any food so I’m starving on top of it. Are you going?”

“Yeah. I made a donation that they want to thank me for in front of everyone. Please hex me instead.”

They both laughed and Draco stood. “I’ll let you get back to work, I know you’re busy. I just wanted to say hi.”

She reached over and gave his hand a little squeeze. “I’m glad you did. So I’ll see you Friday then.”

\-----

The reception was ghastly. Everyone wanted just five minutes of Hermione’s time and, of course, the accompanying photograph of them together. And true to form, she wasn’t able to even think about getting near the tables laden with food.

The scholarship committee chair made a polite speech about Draco’s generous donation and introduced him.

Draco took center stage a bit self-consciously. “Hello, everyone. I’m not one for speeches. I had actually asked a friend to hex me instead but I couldn’t convince her…,”

His speech was interrupted by someone shouting from within the group of gathered Gryffindors, “Should of asked Granger! She’d of done it!”

Draco had the poise to chuckle and he looked to Hermione who was standing off to the side and teased, “Now why didn’t I think of that? Minister?”

The room chuckled when Hermione rolled her eyes playfully and shook her head. Draco continued his speech, “Well since even the Minster won’t put me out of my misery… let me just say this, more than anyone here I owe a debt to this school. And while there are parts of that debt I can never repay, I can and _will_ make sure that _all_ magical children, regardless of means or lineage, are able to attend Hogwarts and have everything they need to succeed. These children are the future of magic and I personally can’t wait to see the potential in _all_ of them emerge in the coming years. Thank you.”

The room was silent. Never had Draco so publicly thrown support behind Muggle-born and mixed blood children. Hermione was about to start clapping to get the ball rolling when someone unexpected beat her too it:  Harry Potter. He stepped out of the clutch of Gryffindors and met Draco’s eyes as he slowly started clapping. He nodded at Draco and the room soon joined in the clapping. Hermione joined in and she met Draco’s eyes as he tried to slink off to the side and out of the limelight.

\-----

Another half hour of boring conversation later Draco rescued Hermione from the boorish spice trade businessman she was stuck conversing with.

Draco approached and butted in. “Excuse, do you mind if I steal the Minister? Thank you,” he said confidently, not giving the other man the opportunity to say no. Hermione let Draco lead her away by the elbow gratefully.

“You looked like you were in pain,” Draco teased when they were out of earshot.

“I was. And I’m starving on top of it.”

“Me too. I can never eat before I have to speak in public.”

“Speaking of… that was a really nice speech, Draco.”

“I meant every word.”

She smiled. “I know.”

Out of the blue he asked, “Do you like fish and chips?”

Hermione blinked at the odd question. “Of course.”

Draco looked around conspiratorially. “If you think you can escape, I know where we can get some really good fish and chips.”

Her stomach growled at the idea and she replied, “I’ll get my cloak.”

\-----

They escaped the reception and apparated to a spot near the Thames River. They walked a block and found a little hole in the wall take out stand selling fish and chips.

Draco bought two paper wrapped orders and they took them over to a bench overlooking the river.

He laughed when Hermione groaned in delight at her first bite of fish.

“Oh, this is good, Draco. How on earth did you find this place?” she asked as she selected a chip to pop in her mouth.

“Blaise found it actually, after his cousin’s stag night. Don’t ask me how in the world they ended up here of all places. Anyway, after that anytime we’d go out drinking with Blaise we’d end up here in the middle of the night for fish and chips. As big of a snob as his is, if the food’s good he’ll keep coming back.”

She chuckled at his story and they ate in companionable quiet just watching the boats on the river.

When they finished eating they walked for a while, chatting about this, that, and the other. There were a lot of smiles and gentle laughter between them.

Neither had really noticed the time but it had grown quite late and they heard church bells in the distance telling them so. They made their way to a private place to apparate and he again saw her to her door.

They walked up her front walk and she stopped and faced him. “Thank you for this. This has been a much better night than I expected it to be.”

Draco nodded. “I feel the same way. Can I see you again?”

Without an iota of hesitation she replied, “I’d like that, Draco.”

\----- 

Hermione had just gotten home and was in the foyer still in her winter cloak when the little owl pecked at her window. Hermione quickly let him. He perched on the banister railing as she untied the parchment and read the little note.

_“H,_

_I don’t know if you have plans, but if you don’t, would you like to have dinner? Lady’s choice on where.”_

_Yours,_  
_D”_

Hermione grinned at the note. Their dinners together were coming more and more frequently now that both their legal separations were in order giving them freedom. If someone had asked her a year ago if she would have thought that she’d be having a clandestine relationship with Draco Malfoy she would have thought them mental. But yet here they are, enjoying each other’s company the more they spent in it and each looking forward to the next time they could both squirrel away time together.

Digging in her bag she found a quill and scratched out a reply.

_“D,_

_I have a standing seven o’clock reservation tonight at a little Muggle restaurant a few blocks away from my home. It’s one of my favorites and it would be lovely if you would join me. I start walking at half-past six._

_H”_

She tied the reply on the little owl’s leg and chided him, “There you go, now the weather is going to be bad later, so don’t let him send you out again. Tell him I said so.”

Draco had teased her about his little owl liking her more than him more than once. She gave him an affectionate little scratch in just the spot he liked and he cooed in response. She opened the door for him and he took off into the evening sky.

She glanced at the clock on the wall, grateful to have a little time to change into something nicer. And if she put a little extra makeup on and tidied her hair, well there was nothing wrong with that.

\-----

They were standing at her front door. The snow had really started coming down in earnest during the time they were in the restaurant, big fluffy flakes which had blanketed everything beautifully.

They had just walked back from their dinner which had been delightful. They had enjoyed not only the food, but the wine and especially the company as usual.

Draco was well informed on current events and policy initiatives at the Ministry and Hermione found it wonderful to be able to have real conversations about her work and things that were important to her without having to dumb them down or explain things a hundred times.

For his part, Draco found that his opinions and thoughts actually mattered to her and while she might not always agree with him, she never just dismissed him out of turn and would happily try to turn him around to her way of thinking when they disagreed. She even succeeded a time or two, as did he when the situation was reversed.

Oddly, or perhaps not, the one topic on which they had complete agreement was their children and what they wanted for them in life, that being healthy and happy and chasing after their dreams with both hands. Merlin help anyone who interfered with that.

It had been their fifth such evening together since both their separations became legal and there was more than a slight sliver of anticipation in both of them that there was more to come.

They stood there facing each other like two anxious teenagers. Draco slipped his hand out of his coat pocket and cupped her cheek with his palm, his thumb gently brushing her bottom lip. A moment later his mouth followed, soft and meek. His eyes were open, searching hers, making sure he was welcome.

Hermione’s reaction was far more direct, she simply grabbed his scarf and pulled him in close as she deepened the kiss and made him groan into her mouth when she added her little teasing tongue to the fray.

They had no idea how long exactly they stood on her stoop, snogging like teenagers, but when they finally pulled back, their cheeks were rosy with excitement and cold and the shoulders of their coats had a good half inch of snow on them.

Draco took a step back and stepped down one step so she could open the door. “Goodnight, Hermione.”

Hermione reached over and stroked his cheek with her hand. “Goodnight, Draco.”

She turned went inside and he made his way back down to the sidewalk, a little smile curling the corners of his mouth as he walked.

\-----

“A package just arrived for you, Minister,” Abigail said cheerfully as she handed Hermione a plain wrapped parcel about the size of an apple pie.

“Thank you, Abigail,” Hermione said and Abigail left her to her package.

Hermione placed the parcel in the middle of her desk and opened it.

Her mouth fell open seeing a perfectly formed snowflake the size of a tea saucer in the box. She gently lifted it out. It was ice cold to the touch and shimmered beautifully in the light. She looked down at the box it came in and saw another smaller box and a note. Carefully she laid the big snowflake down and opened the first note.

_H,_

_I don’t know if you’ve ever used real snowflakes on your Christmas trees but I thought you might like this one. My mother taught me how to make these as a child. I made this one from a flake of that snow the other night. I hope it makes you smile, now and in the years to come._

_Yours,_  
_DM_

Hermione smiled at the note. It was a lovely, thoughtful, romantic gift.

The little box intrigued her. It, too, had a note attached.

_Because you can’t wear the first snowflake. -D_

Even more intrigued after reading the note she opened the little box. Her eyes grew as big as saucers seeing the stunning snowflake necklace nestled against the blue velvet of the box interior. There was no mistaking the sparkling diamonds or the shiny platinum. It was a ridiculous and overly indulgent extravagance. Part of her wanted to send it back immediately, not wanting him to think her affections were for sale. But another part of her, the part that wished they didn’t have to hide their relationship was touched by his gift, something she could wear every day and think of him.

With a shaking hand she put the necklace down on the desk and pulled a fresh sheet of parchment towards her.

\-----

Draco’s palms got a little sweaty when he saw the ministry owl at the window. He didn’t see a package, just a letter, and it alleviated his worry a little.

The gifts had been spontaneous. The big charmed snowflake was just something magical and fun that he thought she would like and might not have seen before being Muggle-born. The gift of the necklace had come from a different place inside him all together, he had just wanted to surprise her, spoil her a little and make her smile just because he could, something he doubted anyone had done for her in a very long time.

But he worried that she would think he was trying to buy his way into her company. It was the furthest thing from true, but he worried nonetheless.

He sent the owl off and looked at the crisply folded letter sealed with wax.

He sat in his favorite easy chair in the library and swallowing hard, opened it.

_D,_

_Both my gifts are lovely. Part of me wants to yell at you about the extravagance of the necklace but another part is reminding me that this is the most romantic thing that anyone’s ever done for me. Ever._

_If you were here right now, you’d see me wearing it and smiling as I think of our evening out in the snow._

Draco’s closed his eyes and let out a breath, his worry all for nothing. He opened his eyes and read it again and smiled. Smiled because she had finally signed it: _Yours, H._

\-----

They had gotten back from what used to be her favorite little Muggle restaurant that had since turned into _their_ favorite little Muggle restaurant over the past six weeks and this time when he kissed her passionately on the front step, she invited him inside for a night cap, both of them knowing it wasn’t just a drink she was inviting him in for.

They moved into the living room. Like the rest of her rental row house it was furnished but not decorated, nothing even remotely personal save a colorful knitted afghan over the back of the enormous velvet sofa and a big vase of cut lilacs on the mantle. There was a large fireplace taking up one wall, a thick, shaggy carpet in front of it. Hermione asked, “Can you light that while I fix our drinks?”

“Of course,” Draco said and did just that with an easy flick of his wand.

Hermione had moved to the small dry bar in the corner and was readying glasses when she felt him step up behind her. She sucked in a hurried breath when his hands slipped around her waist even as his mouth nuzzled her neck just below her ear. He pulled her back against him and whispered, “Please tell me you want this as much as I do?”

His hot breath in her ear was her undoing, stealing away all reason, all thought of how truly bad an idea the whole thing was. She turned in his arms and gently cupped his face in her hands.

“Part of me thinks that this isn’t a good idea and that it will end badly, hurting both of us in the process, but… Draco, there’s another part of me that’s louder and it’s screaming to stop over-analyzing it because we just _might_ end up good together,” she said in a wavering voice before she kissed him fiercely, hungrily.

It took him less than a heartbeat to respond in kind as she he pressed herself as close to him as she could, kissing him with a ferocity that he honestly never expected.

Hermione lost herself in his embrace, savoring his smell and the gentle strength in the arms he had around her. She could feel the heat from his body and his arousal against her. But it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough, and her hands scrambled to get under his shirt to find his skin.

\-----

If _his_ breath in her ear was her undoing, then _her_ hands grasping and pawing at his back was his, the touch of her fingers like little licks of fire on his skin. Effortlessly he lifted her in his arms and laid her gently on the thick carpet in front of the roaring fire.

There was a reverence to his touch as he slowly undressed her. His own body ached with the wanting of her and screamed with the desire for him to shuck his trousers and take the sweet release it knew it would find inside her. But that wasn’t what he wanted- taking. So many things had been taken from her, more than a few his own doing, and he wanted to give this time around, not take.

His hands and mouth were light as feathers upon her skin, his eyes locking away everything as memory to cherish. He mapped scars and freckles alike and he discovered all her sensitive spots. He found himself groaning as she arched below him as his mouth teased and suckled her breast.

He could feel her heat through his trousers and his self control buckled as she gasped and moaned sweetly when his hand slipped between them to find the curls there wet with her wanting of him.

Draco swallowed hard and balanced himself above her on his hands, trying to cool his ardor a little. Hermione had other ideas, however, and her hands ran down his bare chest to efficiently unbutton his trousers.

He closed his eyes and let out a low guttural groan as her hand slipped inside and closed firmly around his aching erection. He opened his eyes and locking them on hers, bent his neck to kiss her fiercely, a kiss guaranteed to leave them both bruised in the morning, even as her hand was stroking him to madness.

Draco couldn’t stand the torment any longer and gently pulled away to quickly divest himself of the remainder of his clothes.

He lay back down on top of her, his body molding itself to hers as if they had done this a thousand times before.

\-----

Hermione’s breath was ragged as Draco stripped himself. She bit back a whimper as he stretched his lithe naked body on top of hers. They fit together perfectly, like two puzzle pieces. There was no awkwardness between them, no bumbling or hesitancy that new lovers often have. His erection was large and ardent between them, fueling more of her own desire with anticipation, even as his mouth was teasing and tormenting her neck, driving her past all reason.

Her body wanted him, of that there was no doubt, no hesitation. She claimed his mouth in another fierce kiss, her nails digging unconsciously into his back as her legs opened and she shifted to take him inside her in one slickly fluid motion.

\-----

Time stopped. At least it felt like it did in that first moment he was inside her. He stilled and closed his eyes, the sensation of tight, wet, heat almost too good to bear. His whole body was on fire. Finally, he had to move. Draco rocked his hips slowly, feeling her move with him.

\-----

They moved together each pushing the other closer towards the blissful oblivion of release. Hermione had her legs wrapped around him tightly, urging him in deeper. He obliged, her every reaction to his touch both surprising and delighting him in equal measure. It was as if she had been made just for him and he for her. He found himself to be in the lucky position of looking her directly in the eyes when her climax hit. Her face in that moment would be something he would remember to his dying day.

He drew it out for her, keeping his motions consistent and steady. As hers waned she kissed him hard with lots of teeth and tongue and sped up the pace knowing it would drag him over edge with her. And sure enough it did. As the pinnacle of his release hit he slipped his arms under her and pulled her in even closer. Draco’s whole body shook with the power of his orgasm. He buried his face in her neck, muffling his near painful-sounding cries against her skin.

\-----

Slowly they both stilled and attempted to catch their breath.

Draco’s face was still tucked in the crook of Hermione’s neck. He could smell traces of the simple almond soap she preferred, the lilacs on the mantle, and the burning wood from the fire. The odd combination niggled at him, like he was forgetting something important. But his brain was quickly turning to mush in that post-orgasmic way and he shook off the weird, random thought.

\-----

Gently they disentangled themselves and Draco flopped on his back beside her. Hermione tucked herself in next to Draco, her head on his shoulder, liking that his hand was absently drawing little swirls on her back. She felt beautiful and cherished and that realization made her smile.

He managed to reach the afghan with his free hand and clumsily covered them with it one-handed. Then he pressed a kiss to the top of her head as she nestled in closer to him and they dozed off.

\-----

The first fingers of dawn were peeking through the cracks in the curtains. Their bodies had found each other twice more in the night, each time as powerful as the first. They hadn’t spoken out loud, not a word, as if words would have undone it all some how.

Hermione woke and it took her a couple of blinks to sort out where she was. She turned her head to see Draco looking at her intently, a rather worried look upon his face.

She reached over and stroked his cheek, imploring him with her eyes to tell her what was wrong.

“Regrets?” he asked softly, terrified of her answer.

She frowned at the question. Her answer was immediate. “Not one. You?”

His look of worry turned to one of abject adoration and relief in a heartbeat as he answered, “Not one.”


	4. Things Hidden

Another Ministry function, this one a formal fundraising gala put on by the St. Mungo’s expansion committee of which Draco chaired, found Hermione again locked in conversation with someone more boring than watching paint dry. Draco again swooped in to rescue her, this time by inviting her onto the dance floor for a waltz to start the evening’s dancing.

They danced together effortlessly, making anyone who by some _fluke_ didn’t know their convoluted history think that they made a most handsome couple, and those that _did_ know it could only see polite politicking at it’s finest between the Minister of Magic and the Hospital Committee Chairman.

Hermione noticed an odd look in Draco’s eyes as they danced, and she was grateful when they completed their first solo turn on the floor and other couples quickly filled it. She leaned closer to Draco and asked, “What are you thinking about? You seem far away.”

Draco smiled at her, managing to keep them in step. “I was remembering the Yule Ball and the first time and only time we’ve ever danced before now.”

Hermione had of course, been on Viktor Krum’s arm for that event, and as such Draco and the other Slytherins had all put on their best high society manners and treated her cordially all evening regardless of their normal feelings for her or her lineage. She and Draco had even shared a waltz and he had surprised her by not only being a complete gentleman about it, but by also complimenting her on her dancing when he had actually smiled at her and teased as he twirled her around, “You’re good at this, Granger.” It had been the first time Draco had ever spoken to her without a sneer or venom in his tone and for just a moment they had enjoyed each other’s company. It had also been Draco who had wordlessly tapped her on the shoulder and handed her a pristine white handkerchief when he walked past her sitting on the stairs crying by herself at the end of the evening. He didn’t say anything, just handed it to her and gave her a little nod when she accepted it, his eyes oddly kind, then continued on his way.

“Oh, Merlin. That was so long ago,” Hermione said with a laugh.

“Your face when I asked to you dance,” he teased, “it was priceless.”

“I wasn’t sure it wasn’t some sort of Slytherin prank. It was surreal.”

“All our fathers would have killed us if we had insulted the Durmstrang visitors in any way, most notably my father. So we were all on our very best behavior, especially since all eyes and the press were on you as the Durmstrang champion’s date. At least I know I was, no one else gave you grief did they?”

“No. Not one. Everyone was very polite. Blaise Zabini even complimented me on my appearance, he said I looked lovely and that I brought honor to my House. He was very formal but I thought he sounded sincere at the time.”

Draco leaned in a little and said softly, “Every guy there that night thought you looked lovely, me included, Blaise just had the nerve to actually say it. You know, that was the first time I really saw you as a girl and not just an irritating swot. You were beautiful and fun and it surprised me more than I ever expected it to. I sort of hated having to hate you after that night, if that makes any sense. I thought… I thought you and I might have actually made an interesting couple if you hadn’t been muggle-born. I can’t even begin to tell you how conflicting that was to prat me.”

She nodded. “All of us getting along that night made me wish that it could have been like that all the time at school. Could you imagine?”

“Hogwarts would have certainly been a different place if we had. I guess all we can do now is make sure that’s how it is for our children.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more.”

They danced wordlessly for another circuit of the dance floor when Hermione spoke again, “I never did thank you for the handkerchief. You were the only one that seemed to care that I was crying.”

“Merlin, I wanted to hex Weasley for making you cry. It had been such a good night up till then. Git.”

“I kept it you know, that handkerchief, for a long time.”

He chuckled. “Sentimental much, Granger?” She accepted his teasing but didn’t tell him that it had gone with her in her little beaded bag on the hunt for Horcruxes or that she had finally lost it when she had used it to stem the flow of blood from Professor Snape’s ravaged neck. Of all the deaths in the war, Snape’s hit Draco the hardest and she wouldn’t add to his guilt over things long laid to rest in the past.

She forced a grin instead, but didn’t reply.

It was his turn to offer, “I have a picture of us dancing at the ball.”

“What? Really?”

“Really,” he replied then leaned in close to whisper seductively, “Come home with me and I’ll show it to you.”

“You are just full of surprises, Mr. Malfoy, how can I say no to an offer like that?” she teased both of them knowing full well that they had already planned on ending their evening in Draco’s bed and having a rare leisurely lie-in in the morning and letting Timly pamper them with brunch.

They finished their dance and found themselves pulled off to dance with other partners. Their eyes kept finding each other across the room, however, and they both felt the heat from their impending secret rendezvous.

\-----

Hermione slipped her shoes off the moment her feet hit the marble of Draco’s entrance hall. He chuckled. “Cushioning charms give up?”

She wiggled her toes. “Hours ago.”

He shook his head. “Women and their shoes.”

Hand in hand they headed for the library, Draco insisting that he wanted her to see the photograph from the Yule ball.

\-----

He went to a certain shelf in the library, the one that held all his books from Hogwarts and pulled out a photo album that was tucked safely next to a first level Divination text.

He brought it over to the reading table and put it down. He flipped through the pages, Hermione seeing a lot of familiar Slytherin faces fly by, until finally he found the Yule Ball pictures.

“Here,” he said with a grin, pointing to a page.

Hermione giggled. “Merlin, look at how young we were. I still can’t believe you kept this.”

Draco rubbed his finger absently along the bottom edge of the photo. “You were so beautiful that night.”

“And how handsome you were in your dress robes. We did make a quite a pair didn’t we?”

Draco grinned and turned his head a bit to look at her, after a moment he pushed the album a little closer to her and walked away towards a curio cabinet along the back wall. When he returned he was carrying a little gold box in his hands.

Hermione pulled her attention away from the photo album to see him place the box down on the table and draw his wand. He tapped the box and commanded, “Maestro, if you please.”

The box split open and all its gold filigree innards flipped and unfolded themselves into a complete little orchestra. Draco tapped it again and said, “Wizard Waltz forty-seven.”

The little orchestra began to play a slow waltz and Hermione clapped her hands in delight. “Where on earth did you get that, Draco? It’s wonderful!”

Draco tucked his wand away. “In a little dingy antique store in Venice. It was completely broken and its charm not working so I got it for a couple galleons. It took me six months to mend it and make it play properly again.”

Hermione looked between the orchestra and Draco. “You fixed this? Wow. That’s beautiful magic, Draco. Do you fix other things?”

Draco extended his hand. “Come dance with me and I’ll tell you.”

She chuckled and slipped her hand in his. He pulled her in far, far closer than he had at the Gala and lead them in a slow stately waltz. “Fixing curios like that became a hobby for me after the war. I needed… _something_ to focus on. Something I could actually fix unlike the disaster I made of everything else.”

Hermione listened without saying anything, it wasn’t often that Draco shared anything about his life during or immediately after the war. She knew it was a particularly dark time for him.

He continued. “I had actually started fixing things our fifth year over the Christmas holidays. My mother’s favorite Yule music box stopped working and I was able to repair it. After that, I would buy broken things at Borgin and Burkes, fix them and sell them back for more than what I paid. It was how I was chosen to mend that damned vanishing cabinet in the Room of Requirement.”

“I’m sorry they twisted your hobby into that,” Hermione replied gently.

Draco brushed a kiss to her cheek. “And I could have been a man and said no. But that’s in the past and not something I can change.”

She nodded. “So how many of the things here in your home are things you’ve fixed? You have so many beautiful antiques.”

“Almost all of them,” he replied, glad for the change in tone of the conversation.

“Are you working on something now?”

“Mm-hmm,” he murmured near her ear, making a shiver go down her spine. He nipped her earlobe and whispered, “but it’s a surprise.”

She groaned a little and asked, “A surprise for me?”

“Maybe,” he teased.

Before she could say another word Draco’s mouth claimed hers, hard and a bit more assertive than it ever had. He was normally loving and gentle, even when he was deep inside her and pushing her towards the abyss of orgasm. But tonight he was a little needy. Hermione went with the flow, letting him take what he needed from her.

The first waltz ended and the little orchestra began another piece, this one more mournful with a somber pounding rhythm behind it.

She soon found herself backed against a bookshelf, the smell of old parchment and leather heavy in the air around them. Draco’s body was pressed hard against her and she could feel his arousal through the silk of her ball gown.

His mouth traveled down her neck teasing and licking in ways that made her forget how to think, all she could do was turn her head a bit to give him better access and wrap her arms around him to pull him in even closer as he ground himself against her. Hoarsely he said, never breaking the uncompromising pressure of his hips, “This is what I should have done at the Ball when I saw you crying. Should have told my father to sod off and made you mine back then, should have shown you how beautiful you were, how good we could have been together….”

There was a deep tone of regret in his voice that she hated hearing, he seemed rather stuck in the past tonight. She whispered back, “We’re here now, Draco, so show me _now_.”

No sooner had she said that did she feel air on her calves, then her thighs as he dragged her gown up. She gasped as he sucked a hickey onto the skin over her bare collarbone just as his hand slipped inside her knickers to tease her in her exact favorite way guaranteed to make her come all over his hand, something she did in very short order thanks to his talented fingers.

His mouth crashed back onto hers, taking all her moans of pleasure as she quivered around his fingers. She whimpered when she felt him withdraw his hand then realized he was fumbling with his trousers to free his erection. Another bit of fumbling and she felt her knickers ripped off and discarded. A moment later strong hands under her thighs lifted her just so and held her at the perfect height for him to enter her with a groan.

Hermione kissed him for all she was worth as he set a pace matching the music. She felt another orgasm building in her, this one different, this one slow like a little flame building inside her. Draco’s mouth was back on her neck and teasing her ear with his nose, his fingers leaving bruises on the back of her thighs as he gripped her tighter and tighter as he bottomed out on each stroke.

He pulled back to look in her eyes and felt his balls drawing up in anticipation. He shifted a bit and changed his angle. The previously breathy moans she had been making became a guttural keening as her climax built and finally crested around him.

It was her crying out his name as a prayer that set off Draco’s release. Her name fell from his lips over and over against her skin as he emptied himself inside her.

He rested his forehead on hers as he gently pulled himself out and let her wobbly legs back down to the floor. Their breathing was ragged and neither spoke.

Her gown slipped back down and he fixed his trousers.  There was a little worry on his face, like he had been too rough or domineering.  She leaned in and kissed his mouth gently.  Softly she reassured him, “That was… just… wow.  Made me feel like a teenager again.” 

The music changed again, this time to a lighthearted plinking piano tune. It, along with her reassurance, seemed to snap Draco out of the odd place he was in his head. He brushed a knuckle over her cheek and said a bit bashfully, “I honestly didn’t expect to christen the library when we came in here tonight. I only meant to show you that photo.”

Hermione giggled. “I’ve never done it in a library before,” she admitted.

“Seriously? As big a swot as you are?”

“Never.”

“How about a formal dining room?”

“No.”

“Conservatory?”

“No.”

“Drawing room?”

“No.”

“Lord of the Manor’s bed chamber?”

She laughed, for as many times has they had been intimate it had always been at her home, not his. “No,” she said with a pretend pout, “but I have shagged the Lord of the Manor does that count?”

She shrieked a bit as he swooped her up in his arms at her last response. “Draco, what are you doing?”

“It’s a big house with lots of rooms to christen, we’d best get started,” he replied and apparated them to his bedroom with a grin.

\-----

The nightmare hit Draco hard that night, an up close and personal replay of the night he received his Dark Mark.

He was screaming, trying to claw his way away from Voldemort’s memory as the mark was burned into his flesh.

\-----

Hermione woke in an instant. Draco was next to her crying out in his sleep, unable to wake himself to escape the horror of his dreams.

Carefully she took his hand in hers and called his name. Over and over she called to him until he heard her.

\-----

He could hear his name, hear it over his screams as the Dark Lord invaded his mind and rooted around like a berserker for any tidbit of information that could be used to bind Draco to him while he burned the Dark Mark into his flesh.

He finally broke free of the dream and woke to see a pair of worried brown eyes.

He sat up and scrubbed his face with his hands.

“Are you alright?” Hermione asked softly. She had witnessed some of his other nightmares, but this one was different, stronger and she almost hadn’t been able to wake him.

He looked over and swallowed hard. “Yeah. Sorry I woke you.”

“This one was worse than the others.”

He nodded and looked down to stare at an empty spot at the end of the bed, trying to calm his breathing.

“It was about the night I got the Dark Mark.”

Hermione’s eyes fell to the vile, hated thing on his arm. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Draco shook his head, “No. I… just not right now. It’s too fresh in my head.”

Hermione rubbed his back gently and replied, “Okay. So long as you know I’m ready to listen whenever you want to talk about it.”

He nodded and she extinguished the light. They settled back under the blankets with Draco spooning around her and holding her close to him. The look on his face terrified that a long dead Dark Lord would tear her from him.

\-----

They laid in the dark for a long while, neither able to go back to sleep.

Draco finally broke the quiet and said, “He was in my head, slithering around, touching everything. Prodding. My whole life was open to him. Good memories, bad memories, shit I didn’t care about, then my first kiss, my first shag, everything… everything I _was_ he touched and poked and prodded.”

Hermione gripped the arm he had wrapped around her tightly. “I can’t imagine what that must have been like. Just to be in his presence was loathsome and terrifying.”

He squeezed her a little closer and whispered, “I never let him know how I felt about you, the things I thought about at the Ball. I hid that, it was the only thing I managed to hide.”

Sleep eluded Hermione the rest of the night.

\-----

The week after the gala had been a busy back-to-business-as-usual week for the both of them. And to top things off, right in the middle of it was Hermione’s court date to settle her divorce.

Following the hearing, Hermione had been quiet all evening. It didn’t concern Draco overly much, in the nearly six months they had been together they each had days when either the stress of the present or the deeds of the past would foul their moods and they both worked to not take out either on each other.

Given that she had had to go court today and finalize her divorce Draco was not surprised at her quietness and had even asked gently after she had insisted upon making them them dinner, as if it were any normal Wednesday evening, if she wanted him to go home so she could have some alone time. Her reaction had been an instant and resounding, “No!” followed by a quiet, pleading, “Please, stay,” as she didn’t lift her eyes from her plate.

So he had stayed… and worried about her. And hours later they finally talked.

\-----

Draco had gone to bed before her and was sitting up against the headboard in her bedroom with an old book in his lap, waiting for her and concerned about her, when she finally came to bed.

She didn’t say a word, just took the book out of his hands and dropped it gently to the floor. He slid over a bit and raised the covers. She climbed up and curled up against him, her cheek on his bare chest. He fixed the covers over her and extinguished the bedside lamp.

He stroked her hair and said softly, “Do you want to talk about it?”

She sniffed hard and kissed his chest before she said, “It all came out and is now part of the public legal record. I’m going to be a laughingstock. And my children…,” she replied, trying not to cry.

“What came out?” he asked, they had never really spoken in specifics about the ends of their respective marriages, just that they were each unhappy and felt that the time had been right to move on.

They had both completely respected each other’s privacy in regards to the circumstances of their divorces. Neither wanted to judge each other’s actions in _their_ relationship based on what either had done in their now failed marriages. Both Draco and Hermione were honest with each other that neither of them had ever been unfaithful or abusive spouses but rest of the issues around their marital breakdowns were not discussed in minutia. Their marriages to Astoria and Ron were in the past, what they were to each other was the future and to them, that was what was important.

“You’re going to think I’m pathetic and I’d rather wait until morning for you to hate me again if that’s okay. I just… I need you tonight,” she croaked out through tears and squeezed even closer to him.

“Hey,” he replied as he quickly re-lit the lamp. He took one look at her face and sat up and pulled her into his lap. He held her as tightly as he could and whispered, “There is absolutely nothing that you can say that would ever make me think you’re pathetic. And I am not going anywhere. Not now, not tomorrow. Hear me?”

She looked up and met his eyes and saw the truth and conviction there. He leaned in and kissed her forehead softly, sealing his promise.

Hermione rested her head on his shoulder and drew little random runes on his chest with her finger. It was something she did often. Draco hadn’t told her that his skin tingled for days afterwards when she did, she had amazing magic.

He heard her breathing even out and her voice was quiet in the room. “What came out is that Ron cheated on me. With three different women over the length of our marriage. I found out about the last one the week before I filed my divorce papers.”

Draco frowned above her head. Hermione was one of, if not _the_ , most faithful people he had ever known. Whether it be her friends, her family, or the things she cared about, she was always steadfast and loyal. Having her marriage disintegrate because of her husband’s three-time infidelity would have been the ultimate slap in the face to her self-esteem.

“That’s his shame to bear, not yours,” Draco offered evenly, not letting his own anger at how much it was hurting her come out in his voice.

“But I’m the _idiot_ that stayed… for _years_ … the idiot that believed him when he said it wouldn’t happen again. Not once but twice. Then I find out about the third.”

Draco stroked her hair. “I’m betting that you stayed because of your children. That you didn’t want to rip your family apart over it.”

“That’s exactly why I stayed. But now it’s all out there in the court record, and there were reporters in the courtroom as well. Guaranteed it’s going to be all over the papers tomorrow. I don’t know how I’m going to be able to look people in the eye.”

“Again, he’s the one who should be hanging his head. Do Rose and Hugo know?”

She sniffed again, “Yes. I went to Hogwarts yesterday to tell them both in person before it comes out in the papers. And I sat with Professor McGonagall and informed her as well so she would know just in case there were issues with Rose and Hugo.”

“Are they okay?” he asked with genuine concern. It unfurled something warm inside her that he cared so much for her children, children he had only ever seen from a distance on Platform 9 3/4.

“I don’t know if Hugo entirely understood but Rose did and she’s livid at her father. Their relationship has been rocky for a couple of years now and I honestly don’t know if she’ll ever speak to her father again after this.”

“That will be a bridge _he’s_ got to mend. She’s allowed her feelings.”

She nodded but didn’t say anything. Neither did he for a long time, choosing instead to just hold her close, cherishing the feeling as he always did.

“Draco?”

“Hmm ?” he replied softly.

“This is probably the worst possible moment to say…,” she started then hesitated.

“To say…?” he prompted gently.

She squeezed him tightly and whispered, “That I love you.”

He squeezed her in return and rubbed his cheek in her hair. “That is a very mutual feeling. I’ve been trying to find the perfect time to tell _you_ how I felt, something utterly romantic and memorable but maybe this is better, more meaningful. I love you, too, Hermione.”

Hermione stilled in his arms and pulled back suddenly so she could look at his face in the light of the bed side lamp.

Her fingers found his face, stroking his cheeks and brushing softly over his lips. “You really mean that?” she asked softly, almost fearfully.

He cupped her face in his hands and replied, “Completely, absolutely, and more than a bit hopelessly.”

She let out a crying sort of giggle and Draco took the opportunity to kiss her deeply before making love to her in a way that was heartbreakingly gentle, sealing every promise their hearts just made to each other.

\-----

 

“You better go, you’re going to be late,” Hermione teased as she opened the front door.

“I’m going, I’m going,” Draco replied as he slipped past her out the door. He paused in the open doorway and leaned in for a playful goodbye kiss.

Unseen by the two in the doorway, Ginny stopped dead midway up the walk, unable to quite believe the scene before her. Hermione was in a big pink fluffy robe and slippers, her hair off in a thousand directions. It was obvious she had just gotten out of bed. Ginny was surprised, Hermione’s divorce had been finalized over four months ago but she hadn’t said a word to Ginny about dating anyone, let alone having someone sneaking out of her house like they were a pair of sixth-years avoiding Filch.

And then there was the man Hermione was snogging right there on the front stoop, who, while dressed, had a dress shirt on which wasn’t buttoned all the way or tucked in, a tie hanging undone over his shoulder, and a suit jacket and cloak neatly hanging on his arm. His blond hair was damp like he was freshly showered.

When he turned and Ginny saw who it was, her mouth literally fell open.

\-----

Draco froze upon turning around and seeing Ginny and heard Hermione’s sharp gasp of surprise from behind him.

Not knowing quite how to deal with the situation he slowly walked down the stairs towards Ginny and said pleasantly, “Morning. Nice piece on the Irish in the Prophet last week, Mrs. Potter.”

Ginny blinked at the unexpected compliment but found her voice. “Thank you. So… wait… you two…?” she asked looking between Draco and Hermione.

Lightly Draco replied, “I think I’ll let Hermione explain.” He pivoted where he stood and threw Hermione a wane smile which she gamely returned. It was their biggest fear - others finding out about their relationship. His heart sank a little wondering if this was the beginning of the end for them and the little sliver of happiness they had had managed to carve out for themselves.

He turned back around and gave Ginny a little nod before walking past her and through the gate.

\-----

Hermione’s expression grew worried as Ginny walked up the stairs.

Ginny stopped in front of Hermione and grinned. “You’ve been keeping secrets.”

“It’s complicated,” Hermione replied nervously.

“Obviously.”

Hermione gestured behind her. “Tea?”

“Unless this story requires something stronger.”

Hermione chuckled as she looped her arm around Ginny’s to pull her into the house. “Maybe once I’ve told you everything.”

\-----

A pot of tea later, Ginny had the whole story.

She didn’t quite know what to say. She got up and looked absently out the window. Finally she said softly, “You looked _so_ happy. I was thrilled for you that you had found someone to make you smile again. Then he turned around and I just couldn’t believe it.”

“It’s so hard to explain. He’s not the same person he was back then, Ginny. He’s not. Then again, neither am I, I guess. We’ve all grown up and life has shaped us all differently. And right here, right now at this point in my life, he makes me happy. Happier than I’ve been in years, honestly.”

“I know. I know how unhappy you were with my brother and why. Git that he is. You absolutely deserve to find someone that makes you happy. It’s just… he’s Draco Malfoy. _Draco_ , Hermione, Draco. Harry and Ron are going to go mental.”

“Please. I don’t want them to know. Not yet. Not until I know where this thing between Draco and I is going.”

Ginny sighed and turned back to face Hermione. “I’ll keep your secret, I’ve always kept your secrets. Same as you’ve kept mine. But it’s going to come out some how some way, Hermione, and it’s going to be better that Ron and Harry find out about it from you rather than anyone else.”

“I know. I just need a little time to figure it all out.”

 

tbc...


	5. Danger Brewing

Hermione had a few minutes before she absolutely had to head back to her office for her next meeting, but she was enjoying a lunch out in Diagon Alley with Ginny and let the other woman talk her into visiting George at the shoppe.

She smiled as she entered, it was all but impossible not to, and let her thoughts take her back a moment to the very first time she had stepped through the door into the twin’s magical play land. It was such a happy memory, one she was sure she could use to summon her patronus if she wanted.

The shop was busy, but not excessively so with the school term at Hogwarts still in session. They would get slammed with customers just as soon as the term ended.

A booming, “LADIES!” came from the upper level and she and Ginny looked up to see a smiling George.

He quickly joined them downstairs and both women were the recipient of a warm hug.

When he pulled back he asked with a teasing twinkle in his eye, “To what do I owe the honor of a visit from the Minister of Magic?”

“We just had lunch and I have a few minutes before I have to get back to my office for a meeting so we thought we’d pop in.”

The old friends spoke casually for bit before Hermione asked, “So what new wonders are you working on, George?”

“Are you offering yourself up as a test subject?”

“Hmmm… maybe. You know my limits, George.”

“Right I do. Come back to the workshop and I’ll show you our next money spinner.”

\-----

As organized as the front of the store was, the workshop was the complete and utter opposite as creative chaos reigned supreme. There were things _everywhere_. Hermione was careful not to touch anything, even accidentally.

George looked around for a moment and spied something. “Aha! This is perfect for you to test.” He picked something up from the table and handed it to Hermione.

It was a red crystal heart, about the size of a galleon. Hermione looked at it sitting on her palm for a moment before realizing that she could actually feel it beating there in her hand. She looked up to George for an explanation.

“That there is a Sweetheart’s Heart.”

“It’s beating.”

“That there is my heartbeat you’re feeling.”

“Really?” Hermione asked, again looking at the crystal in her hand.

“Really. When you get them they aren’t activated, then you cast the charm and they project your heartbeat. That way your sweetheart can carry around your heart in his pocket.”

Hermione smiled. It was such a sweet and innocuous thing, just the type of Weasley Wheeze she liked. “Is it a recording of the heartbeat?”

George shook his head. “No, a live version. So if my lovely Angelina were to walk in the room, that there would change to match the insane pitter-pat in my chest every time I see her.”

His dramatic flourishing of his hand on his chest made Hermione laugh. “This is wonderful magic, George. It’s such a happy thing.”

George took the heart and put it back on the bench. He plucked another out of a tray and placed it on her hand. “That’s a new one. Repeat this, _cormeumosa_ to activate it.”

Hermione repeated the phrase and the heart in her hand grew warm for a moment then began to beat.

She went to hand it back to him but he shook his head. “Keep it. Just do me a favor and let me know how long the charm lasts for you. I’m trying to keep track but it seems to differ from person to person.”

“I will. Thank you, George. I think they’re going to sell like mad.”

“You and me both. I think Valentine’s Day day at Hogwarts just got more interesting.”

They were both chuckling as they went to leave the workshop and George put his arm around her. “I know my brother was a right proper git, but not all men are like him you know. You should let some lucky bloke sweep you off your feet properly. Let him wine you and dine you and spoil you rotten like you deserve.”

Hermione could tell that George was saying all that out of a good place in his heart and she itched to tell him that she had, in fact, met someone who indeed did all of those things. But she couldn’t, he, like everyone else, wouldn’t understand. So she kissed George’s cheek told a little white lie. “As if I have time to date. But I am leaving myself open to new possibilities. I won’t slam the door if someone wonderful comes knocking.”

George walked her to the front door of the shoppe. He gave her hand a final squeeze. “Good. And if Ron gives you a hard time about it just let me know and I’ll kick his arse big brother style. It’s been a while but I haven’t forgotten how.”

She was laughing as she left the shoppe, suddenly very glad she had stopped in. As she walked back to apparate to her office her hand closed around the crystal heart in her pocket. It was beating strong and true.

\-----

Draco looked at the crystal heart Hermione was poised to place in his hand as they sat on the mammoth leather sofa in front of the fireplace in his study. “What is that?”

“It’s a prototype for a new Weasley Wheeze product. Don’t worry it’s not anything obnoxious. In fact I think it’s a wonderful piece of magic.”

“Okay. I’m trusting you,” he teased warningly.

Hermione grinned and placed the heart in his hand. “Now give it just a second.”

Draco’s eyes widened in surprise the moment he felt the heart beat. He looked up to Hermione for an explanation. She happily shared what George had told her.

“That’s brilliant,” Draco said, “Don’t tell him I said so, but their products really are cool.”

“I won’t tell.”

Draco looked closely at the heart a final time before closing his hand around it and slipping it into his trouser pocked. “So now I get to carry your heart around with me all the time.”

Hermione looped her arms around his neck and leaned in to kiss him. Just before their lips touched she whispered, “You already have my heart, Draco.”

The kiss quickly became heated, as it always seemed to do between them. Draco kissed her back with a fierce intensity as he did every time she vocalized her feelings for him. No one had ever loved him the way she did.

Finally he pulled back a bit to whisper hoarsely, “We haven’t christened this room yet,” as his hand slid up her side to cup her breast, his thumb flicking her nipple through her blouse and satin brassiere.

Hermione let out a little gasp as he tormented her nipple, his agile fingers able to play her body like a maestro with his fine violin. Slipping her own hand between them to find him hard and ready, she squeezed him through his trousers as she replied wantonly, “We really should rectify that… as soon as possible.”

Lightning fast he had her pinned beneath him on the sofa, his erection grinding into her as his mouth claimed hers. He moved on to her neck, teasing expertly with his teeth and tongue. He nipped her earlobe and asked, “Slow and soft or hard and fast?” Both of them enjoying the occasional pounding tryst.

Her hands found the edge of her pleated skirt and she inched it up. She licked her bottom lip and replied huskily, “The latter.”

“Thank Merlin,” he groaned out as he quickly unbuttoned his trousers. She hiked her skirt up and he settled between her legs, his hardness between them more than ready to be inside her.

He reclaimed her mouth and slipped a finger past the edge of her knickers to be sure she was ready for him. Her moan against his mouth and bucking of her hips when he did so let him know that she was.

He shoved her knickers to one side and entered her with a hard, single thrust. The molten wet heat that wrapped around him told him he didn’t have to wait to move and he set a pummeling pace that elicited gasps and grunts from both of them. He could feel her tightening around him and he thrust harder with determined strokes. He wanted to feel her orgasm around him, wanted to see her face and hear her moans. And soon enough, he did.

Hermione constricting around him as her release hit pushed him over the edge. He pounded that same determined pace all through his own orgasm and felt most pleased with himself when it pulled another, albeit far less intense, one out of her.

They lay there panting with Draco balancing his weight on his hands as not to crush her. Finally able to speak he looked her in the eyes and whispered, “I love you.”

She cupped his face in her small hands and stroked his cheeks with her fingers, a gentleness and intimacy that only she had ever been allowed, no others, not even Astoria. She traced her thumb over his kiss swollen lip. “I love you, too. And I think…,” she started then stopped and he felt her tense beneath him.

“You think…?” he prompted softly.

She lifted her head and kissed his mouth gently. “I think I could love you forever if I let myself.”

His eyes softened at her words. “You won’t find any objections to that here,” he replied with a gentle smile. His response make her relax and he added, “Maybe forever is something we should talk about when we’re not in a post-coital haze.”

She smiled and replied, “I’d like that.”

He promptly bent his head and kissed her deeply.

\-----

But finding both the time and, more importantly, the courage to actually have that conversation eluded them both in the coming days.

\-----

The Ministry was in chaos when Draco arrived. There were Aurors at every turn, glaring at everyone with equal suspicion. They begrudgingly let him pass after surrendering his wand as was normal protocol and poking their noses in his briefcase which was not.

He immediately headed for Hermione’s office after hearing whispers of an attack on the minister. It took every ounce of self control he had not to let the worry show on his face.

The Auror presence was ten-fold around her outer office and they refused to admit him. Draco was going to start screaming soon if he didn’t see Hermione with his own eyes.

It was Ginny Weasley that finally got him into the office. She had come up behind him and said his name, “Malfoy.”

He turned to see her there carrying what looked like a fresh set of Hermione’s work robes. “Do you know what’s going on?”

Ginny nodded. “She’s okay. Someone broke through security at that speech she was giving earlier and…,” she hesitated.

“And?” he demanded.

“And he threw mud all over her and shouted the normal pure-blood profanity before he disapparated.”

“How the hell did the Aurors let this happen? It’s like the sixth or seventh incident like this in two months.”

There had been several incidents of graffiti in very well-prominent places, the murky brown paint saying “ _No Mudblood Minister_ ” in bold letters. This was something that had also been shouted from the middle of crowds at a couple of Hermione’s public appearances. The Aurors were on top of it, but there just wasn’t much to go on.

Draco’s brow furrowed in worry. The previous incidents had been troubling but not immediately threatening to Hermione’s safety but the incident today crossed that line by a mile.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Harry’s livid, so is Hermione. C’mon she really wants to change her clothes and I’m sure she’d appreciate seeing you.”

They took a couple of steps towards the inner office when Draco put his hand gently on her arm bringing her to a halt. Softly he asked, “Does Potter know…about she and I?”

Ginny shook her head. “Not to my knowledge. I haven’t told anyone. I promised her I would keep your secret and I keep my promises.”

Draco blinked in surprise. “Thank you.”

“She’s happier with you than she’s been in years, Malfoy, don’t muck it up and give me a reason to hex you.”

He threw her a cheeky grin. “I’m doing my very best not to, Mrs. Potter.”

With a mere look from Ginny at the Aurors at the inner office door, they moved to the side and allowed them to pass inside.

\-----

Harry and Hermione were arguing when Ginny and Draco entered the room. Hermione’s dress and robes were stained with brown mud, her hair mussed and her temper up.

Harry was leaning over her desk shouting, “This threat is growing, Hermione, and it’s my job to protect you. You _are_ going to have at least two Aurors with you in public at all times. And we _are_ going to move you to a Fidelius protected safe house.”

Hermione shouted back equally loudly, “I’m not going to be a prisoner, Harry. I can take care of myself.”

Both of them were so angry there was practically steam coming out of their ears.

Calmly Draco asked from the doorway, “What if it hadn’t been just mud that he threw?”

Both Hermione and Harry turned towards him.

The silence in the room was deafening.

It was Ginny who broke it by saying, “He’s right. What if it had been poison or something cursed?”

No one said a word.

Harry straightened and turned to face his wife and Draco.

Hermione took a deep breath and let it out slowly as she met Draco’s eyes and tried to convey that she was, in fact, okay. She hated the fact that she couldn’t lose herself in his embrace for a moment like any other normal couple would under the circumstances.

Ginny went to the private loo in the corner and hung the clean robes on the hook on the door. “You should change and let the Aurors have those robes.”

Harry clicked back into Auror mode. “Yeah. We may be able to figure out where the mud came from.”

“Alright,” Hermione capitulated and headed for the loo, Ginny going in with her to help.

The moment the door closed behind the two women Harry rounded on Draco and demanded, “Why exactly are you here, Malfoy?”

“I had an appointment with the Minister this afternoon but I found myself early and was going to invite her to lunch if she were free, something we do often.” Draco replied honestly. They had had many legitimate business lunches since they became a couple so it shouldn’t raise an eyebrow.

“Do you know anything about these attacks? Have you heard anything? Whispers even?” Harry asked.

Draco shook his head. “No. Just what’s in the papers like everyone else.” Harry’s insinuation infuriated him and he wanted to shout that he would never hurt Hermione, the woman who held his heart in her hands. But of course he couldn’t shout that, he had to maintain his public mask of professionalism when it came to the Minister.

Harry ran his hand through his hair and huffed out a breath then did something unexpected, he apologized. “Sorry, Malfoy, I had to ask.”

“I’ve steered clear of all the Blood Purist nonsense since the war, Potter.”

Harry nodded. “I know. Again, I’m sorry. I’m just worried about Her… never mind.”

Draco asked, “Do you have any leads to get these lunatics?”

“No. Nothing solid. I think if we could just grab one of them we’d be able to sort out the rest, but….”

It was Draco’s turn to nod and he offered, “Potter, if I hear _anything_ you’ll be the first to know. What these fools are doing… our world was just starting to feel completely normal again before they cropped up. We have an honest Ministry, laws that are fair for everyone, people are working together regardless of blood status, and businesses are booming and expanding. The wizarding world is in a good place, we don’t need them mucking it all up with old hatred.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Harry agreed.

\-----

Hermione came out of the loo in her clean clothes, Ginny right behind her with the muddy ones in a conjured brown paper sack which she handed to Harry without a word.

Hermione was a bit calmer to Draco’s eye. He had no idea what Ginny had said to her while in the loo, nor did he really care, he just wanted Hermione safe.

“Okay,” Harry said, trying to take charge once again, “we need to talk about your schedule and about a safe house, Hermione.”

“I’m not going to a safe house, Harry. Absolutely not,” Hermione replied with icy conviction in her voice.

Draco saw Harry’s hand fist in frustration. Knowing that Harry’s primary desire was to keep Hermione safe, something he was totally on board with, Draco decided to intervene before the situation exploded once again between the two old friends.

Calmly he offered, “I may have a solution.” Harry and Hermione both turned towards him and he continued, “Minister, you’ve been to my home several times now and know my security measures, you’d be safe there and would be welcome to stay as long as you need for Potter to eliminate this threat against you.”

Harry looked flummoxed. Hermione had been to Malfoy’s home _several_ times? He knew that the two of them had carved out a cordial working relationship but this seemed a bit beyond that. And now Malfoy was offering up his home as a safe house for her? And while he didn’t honestly believe that Malfoy had anything to do with the new Purist group they were hunting, the distrustful, analyzing portion of his brain started spinning over Malfoy’s motives.

Harry turned to looked at Hermione. She had a smug grin on her face that let him know that the problem was solved in her mind and she confirmed it by saying, “That is a lovely solution, Mr. Malfoy, I appreciate your hospitality and gladly accept.”

“Hermione…,” Harry started to say but she cut him off.

“I will be perfectly safe, Harry.”

Harry could see that he wasn’t going to get far with her so he turned to Draco and asked with a sigh, “You mentioned security measures?”

If the situation hadn’t been so serious Draco would have laughed at Harry’s discomfort. But the matter was serious, deadly serious, in fact, so he addressed the Auror’s concerns. “My London home is unplottable and Fidelius protected. There are apparation-prevention wards on the whole property and a locking ward on the Floo. It’s as safe as a place can possibly be, Potter, I wouldn’t risk the life of my son.”

All of Harry’s arguments dried up at Draco’s last word. For all all the things he and Draco didn’t have in common as adults, fatherhood was an exception. And having seen Draco on more than one occasion with his son, Scorpius, there was no question that the man loved his son and would do anything to protect him, just as he would his own children. Harry still didn’t entirely trust Draco’s motives in helping protect Hermione, Slytherins weren’t known for doing things without benefit to themselves, but he felt that she might be physically safe at the Malfoy home.

“How many people have been given access through the Fidelius?” Harry asked.

“Four others including the Minister, my son, and my house elf Timly,” Draco replied, inwardly pleased at the look of surprise on Harry’s face.

Harry struggled to keep the surprise out of his expression. He would have expected a list of hundreds knowing how the Malfoy’s entertained. “And the last person?”

Draco ticked his head and replied, “My secret keeper whom I don’t feel comfortable in sharing with you at present. However, the Minister knows and can give you her own opinion on if they are trustworthy.”

Hermione had interacted with Blaise Zabini on multiple occasions at Ministry functions and he had never been anything but cordial and polite to her and Draco had assured her when the first incidents with this new Purist group had occurred that Zabini had absolutely nothing to do with it. And while she didn’t know Zabini particularly well, Draco did and she trusted Draco wholeheartedly. Quickly Hermione interjected, “I have no issue at all with Mr. Malfoy’s secret keeper.”

Harry nodded and turned back to Draco. “Your parents?”

Draco’s brow furrowed a bit, but it was a fair question. “No. As you most likely know, I’ve had nothing to do with my father since the war, and when I wish to visit Mother I go to her.”

Harry’s head was spinning, trying to process it all. He asked, “Will you allow me through the wards, not my whole department, just me?”

Draco looked between Harry and Hermione then moved onto Ginny before going back to Harry. “No, not just you, but rather the both of you. I don’t want the Minister to feel cut off from the world, and hard as this will be to believe, I trust both of you not to do anything that would put my son in danger.”

“Never,” Ginny promised adamantly standing next to Hermione.

Harry ticked his head towards his wife and replied, “What she said.”

Draco nodded. “On the subject of children, are the Minister’s children safe? I can have rooms prepared for them as well.”

“They’re safe at Hogwarts for the time being. I’ve got Aurors shadowing them when they’re not in class but if you don’t mind keeping your offer open in case we need it?”

“Not a problem.”

Harry took a deep breath and let it out and turned to Hermione. “Now that that is sorted, can we _please_ discuss your public schedule like adults?”

Ginny snorted back a laugh. “That’s my cue to leave. No hexes, you two. Play nice,” she said then turned to Draco, “They’re going to be at it for a while, let’s go get a bite.”

Draco’s eyes flicked to Hermione and she gave him a little smile, he looked to Ginny and replied, “Sounds good, we can talk about that piece you just published which made me laugh out loud in the middle of breakfast, Mrs. Potter. Honestly, beaters being more important than seekers?”

Harry snorted in agreement as they left the office.

When the door closed behind them Harry turned to Hermione and said simply, “I’ll be honest, I don’t like it, but you know him better than I do these days, you trust him right?”

“I have gotten to know him better and he and I have discussed things… about the past and the war, and about how he thinks now and how he’s raising his son. He’s not the same Draco Malfoy we went to school with, Harry. He’s doing everything in his power to be a good man, someone his son will be proud to call his father, someone who can hold his head up in the community. So to answer your question, yes, I trust him. Completely.”

“Okay. That’s settled then. Now dig out your planner so we can hash out the rest. Your public appearances are our next priority.”

Hermione stepped over to him and hugged him hard. “I know you’re just trying to keep me safe.”

Harry hugged her back and said softly, “Always.”

It wasn’t a word that Harry threw out often, both of them knowing where it came from, and it had the effect of conferring to her just how scared Harry actually was for her.

She gave him a final squeeze and let go before going to her desk and opening her planner book. They spent the next hour pruning her public appearances down to a level Harry was comfortable with.

\-----

Ginny and Draco sat across from each other in a quiet table at the Ministry cafe. They both had sandwiches in front of them that they were picking at.

Draco wiped his mouth on his napkin and gently cleared his throat. “Thank you… for earlier.”

Ginny grinned. “You’re welcome,” she said then teased, “So I get to see this amazing house of yours.”

Draco raised his eyebrow. “She told you about it?”

“Just that it was lovely and that she adores your elf… and your library.”

That made _him_ grin and he tried to focus on the idea that Hermione was the biggest bibliophile anyone knew and not the memory of shagging her breathless up against a shelf full of rare editions to explain away her love of his library. “She’ll be safe there, I promise.”

“I never doubted that for a second, Malfoy.”

Draco picked up his tea and sighed. “You know, I really thought we had left all this behind.”

“Yeah, me too. Obviously Harry’s giving it top priority but they haven’t much to go on.”

Draco nodded. He had no doubt Potter was doing his best to stomp out this new bunch of fanatics. “If I thought for one minute that they would trust me I would try and infiltrate them to expose them, but I’ve been too vocal publicly in support of mixed-blood and muggle-borns. They’ll never let me in.”

“Probably not, no. Just keep an ear out though, yeah? Maybe someone says something stupid that could help.”

Draco nodded and munched the crisps that had accompanied his sandwich. The conversation dried up, but not in bad way. They were two people with a complicated past, a past that couldn’t be forgotten in the course of one conversation. But it was a start and a cordial one at that. It made Draco glad as he knew that by having Hermione in his life that he would have to eventually socialize with the Potters and most likely some of the Weasleys at some point. And while didn’t expect any of them to become the best of friends, he would be civil and courteous as these people were important to Hermione and her children. All he could hope was that they might be civil in return.

He was lost in his own thoughts when Ginny asked, “How is your mother?”

Draco blinked. It was such a random question and he wondered if the civility of their talk was about to be tested. “Why do you ask?”

Ginny shrugged. “We seemed to have run out of things to say. I’m just making conversation. I saw her a few months ago in Diagon Alley. She looked well.”

Draco nodded and relaxed a bit. “She is. That must have been when she had just gotten back from from Italy. Mother spent some time with an old schoolmate who has a villa in Tuscany. From what I understand she just had her first great-grandson and Mother had gone to help them celebrate and see the baby. She had nice trip.”

“That must have been fun. It’s always nice to celebrate happy news.”

“It is,” he chuckled, “She came home clucking about how she couldn’t wait to see _her_ first great-grandchild. Poor Scorpius hasn’t even sat his OWLS yet. I swear she’s gone round the bend.”

Ginny grinned. “My mum is the same way. Thankfully I have older siblings who started having children way before me.”

Draco picked up his sandwich, glad that the conversation hadn’t taken a negative turn after all.

“You’re lucky in that regard. Sometimes there’s a lot of pressure being an only child with no siblings to share it.”

“I can’t imagine that to be honest, being an only child.”

“It had its moments. But now as I’m older I think sometimes it would be nice have what you have, with all the cousins growing up together and heading off to Hogwarts at the same time. I worried about Scorpius when he left for school. I didn’t want him to be alone. Our name is not necessarily the most conducive to attracting friends these days.”

“Well, you don’t need to worry about that. He and Albus are two little peas in a pod. They look out for each other. That reminds me, both boys have been owling hoping to spend at least a week together over the summer holidays. I sent a letter to Astoria to attempt to work out some details but I have not received a reply. Is there a problem? Do not want them to spend time together over the summer?”

Draco’s brow furrowed. “Scorpius has had my permission for quite a while, he’s very excited about it. It’s good for him to have time with his friends, important even. But I left the details up to Astoria as he was staying with her the majority of the summer. I’ll owl her and sort it out.”

“Thanks,” Ginny said and looked up as the clock chimed the quarter to mark, “Sorry to cut this short but I have an interview scheduled that I’ve been chasing for quite a while and I don’t want to be late. You’ll let me know when Hermione’s settled and how to get there?”

Draco stood when she stood. He nodded and replied, “I’ll send an owl tonight. I suspect she’s going to have a late night in the office.”

“Harry, too. I’ll look for your owl. Thanks, Malfoy.”

He grinned. “Draco, please.”

“Alright. Draco, it is. Call me Ginny then.”

Draco grinned wickedly and teased. “Oh, no, you are forever _Mrs. Potter_.”

Ginny chuckled and threw out, “Brat,” before turning and heading out of the cafe.

Draco sat back down and finished his tea trying to sort out his thoughts about the events of the day. 

\-----

tbc...


	6. Lost and Found

“You really want to go some place hot? Wouldn’t a private chateau in the Swiss Alps be more fun? We could ski all day and warm each other up by the fire at night,” Draco said with a bit of pleading in his voice as he expertly tied his tie in front of the mirror in the bedroom. They were both dressing for work.

“I really want to go somewhere warm with a white sandy beach and pristine water. I want privacy, peace and quiet, a personal cabana, and drinks with little umbrellas in them,” Hermione countered as she put on her watch and earrings at the other dresser, completely ignoring his near whine.

“You’re killing me, witch,” Draco said, teasing, as he turned around and took the diamond rose necklace she was holding out, the diamond rose pendant he had given her when it became odd for her to wear a snowflake into spring. He deftly put it around her neck and fixed the clasp. When he was done he dropped his hands to her shoulders and planted a teasing little kiss on the back of her neck, happy when it made her shiver in a good way.

He tucked his chin on her shoulders and met her eyes in the mirror. He stared for a moment, still reveling in the fact that she was here, in his home, his bedroom, his bed, every night now and had been for a blissful three weeks while Potter and the Aurors were still trying to shut down the new Purist movement.

His arms slipped around her from behind and he pulled her close. “I quite like having you here in my home. I may never want you to leave.”

Hermione placed her hands on his arms and gave a squeeze. “If I stay here much longer I may never want to.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?” he asked.

“No, it wouldn’t. But that’s a conversation we haven’t had yet nor do we have time for it this morning. We both have important meetings we can’t miss,” she replied.

Draco released her reluctantly, hating that she was right about their respective meetings. “I know. As much as neither of us is good about talking about our future I really think we need to make time to have the conversation.”

Hermione turned around and kissed him softly on the lips. “I agree completely. Not tonight, I have that boring Historians dinner thing, but tomorrow night?”

He brushed her cheek with his knuckles. “It’s a date.”

Due to circumstances no one could have foreseen, it would be a date they wouldn’t keep.

\-----

Hermione had barely closed the door on her office, practically pushing her latest appointment out the door for fear she was about to vomit all over him, before she dashed to her private loo and without so much as a by your leave, had her stomach empty itself most urgently.

When the wave of nausea had finally passed she sat wearily on the closed lid of the toilet. She looked down at her stomach and said aloud to it irritably, “What is wrong with you the last few days? It’s almost like morning….”

Even as she didn’t finish the words a flicker of hope ignited in her heart. With a shaking hand she picked her wand up from the edge of the sink and cast a charm over her stomach. The ten or fifteen seconds it took for the charm to work seemed like an eternity to her.

When the little pink spark finally popped up from her body it surprised her so much that all she could do was stare in disbelief. A little, “oh,” escaped her lips.

When the first little spark faded, she cast the charm again with the same result, and yet again for good measure.

She was pregnant.

\-----

The boring dinner Hermione was attending as Minister of Magic was the annual meeting of the Esteemed Society of Magical Historians. It was typically a truly dull, dry evening with stodgy academics who previously hadn’t had a new idea since Professor Binns was still among the living.

There was much debate within this Society this year however as the preparations were starting to give out grants for those scholars interested in working on the Society’s new compendium, _The Fall of the Death Eater Cause_. The Society wished to have it ready for the twenty-five year anniversary of the final Battle at Hogwarts that was fast approaching, at least in scholarly terms, in the coming years.

The evening was a virtual who’s who of magical history, everyone wanting their opinions on the subject heard. And of course, everyone wanted just five minutes of her time, though not necessarily because she was the Minister of Magic, but rather because she was Hermione Granger, member of the Golden Trio who had swaths of first hand knowledge of the war.

The press of bodies in the Society’s large meeting hall was oppressive and Hermione desperately wished for a few minutes alone to both cool off and collect her thoughts before giving her speech.

She turned on the charm to the long standing chairman of the Society who had not left her side. “Mister Sherwood, is there anywhere private I could have a few moments to review my remarks a final time?”

The ancient looking wizard patted her hand affectionately. “Of course, Minister, you may use my office. This way.”

He led Hermione from the hall, the two Aurors Harry had assigned to her following closely behind.

The din of the gathering soon disappeared after they made their way through twisting corridors to reach Sherwood’s far away office. After the Aurors made a quick sweep of the room, Hermione finally found herself alone.

\-----

The office was certainly far cooler than the hall had been and Hermione welcomed it with a sigh of relief.

She walked to the window and looked out at the night sky. She didn’t really need to go over her speech, having all but committed it to memory. Instead her thoughts went to the wondrous revelation that she was pregnant. If she hadn’t performed the pregnancy charm herself three times she wouldn’t have believed it.

She and Ron had tried for so very long to have a third child. Nothing they did, not potions, not charms, not even Muggle medicine, had had any effect. She had believed herself to be truly barren and had forced herself to accept it and to be most grateful for the two healthy, beautiful children she _had_ been able to have.

A baby was the one thing money could not buy that she desperately wanted to be able to give Draco and as her love for him grew it had silently broken her heart that she couldn’t. So when her stomach had revolted for the third morning in a row and she realized her monthly courses were late she had performed the pregnancy charm out of a sense of hope and longing. She almost hadn’t believed her eyes when she saw the little pink spark rise from her stomach as the charm worked its magic. It took her casting it three times in total for it to sink in that she was honestly pregnant.

A daughter. She was carrying the daughter that Draco had whispered in her ear one night that he always wanted as he had laid a gentle hand over her womb. He had held her through her tears that night as she told him in halting words that she would never be able to bear him a child. She had been so afraid that it would be a wedge between them, that it would be something he just couldn’t live with, that it would be the impetus to him leaving her. But he surprised her yet again, in the best sort of ways, and had simply accepted it as being part and parcel of loving her.

He had to know about the baby, she needed to tell him. She _wanted_ to tell him. She couldn’t wait to see the joy she knew it would bring to his eyes. She hadn’t bothered him during he day as he had been out on the hospital construction site all day. If he were awake when she finally made it home from this event she would tell him. She decided to ensure that he was.

She pulled her want and conjured her patronus.

\-----

Draco was at his desk in his study finishing up paperwork when the happy little otter that was Hermione’s patronus swam through the window.

He put down his quill and gave it his full attention, always a little in awe of a true corporeal patronus. It was truly a beautiful piece of magic.

Hermione’s voice came out of it. “ _Can you wait up for me? There’s something I need to talk to you about. I love you._ ”

He raised a curious eyebrow at her words even as the patronus dissipated away. He wondered what she wanted to talk about, had she perhaps caved in to his Alps holiday wishes? He looked at the untouched tumbler of firewhisky next to his paperwork that was his nightly way to unwind and frowned. He called for Timly and asked for tea instead.

\-----

A short while later he was sipping the tea a cheerful Timly had made and reaching for one of her wonderful shortbread biscuits when another patronus made its appearance in his study. This one a regal stag. A stag that spoke in Harry Potter’s harried voice. “ _Malfoy, you need to get to the Historical Society, there’s been an explosion._ ”

His heart stopped and he didn’t draw a breath until he had grabbed his wand and apparated to the Historical Society. Or at least what was left of the Historical Society. The large building was a now a smoldering heap.

He spied Harry and ran towards him. “Potter. What happened? Where’s Hermione?”

If Harry had noticed either that Draco called her Hermione or the frantic worry on Draco’s face he didn’t acknowledge it. “To answer both questions- I don’t know. What I do know is that I need people with strong magic I can trust here right now and like it or not you’re on that list at the moment given the circumstances. Can you help search for Hermione and other survivors? I’ve never been here and don’t know the layout of the building.”

“She was going to give a speech tonight, so she’s most likely in the main meeting hall. That’s actually below ground in the Society basement towards the rear of the building, the archives themselves take up the top floors,” Draco said, his face ashen.

“Okay. Do what you can. Here, put this on, so people know you’re with me,” Harry said as he handed Draco a red enameled Auror department badge that signified he was an authorized emergency worker.

Draco quickly pinned it to his shirt and made his way into the rubble trying to visualize where things were _supposed_ to be and where Hermione was most _likely_ to be. As he stood there trying to figure out where to begin he felt completely hopeless until his statue-still body registered a gentle vibration against his leg.

He reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out the red crystal heart Hermione had given him. It was beating strongly in his hand. He let out a sigh of relief, she was alive. Now he just had to find her in the ruins of the building.

\-----

For nearly thirty-six straight hours, fueled by wakefulness potions and strong tea being made by the gallon by some volunteers, Draco and others worked tirelessly to find survivors.

Levitated stone by levitated stone they carefully removed debris to get to the meeting hall where they knew the bulk of the dinner’s guests would be.

Draco often stuck his hand in his pocket to feel the crystal heart beat to reassure himself that she was still alive. He did this particularly when they would come across a body in the rubble.

He was working in a far back corner of where the meeting hall would normally be when he noticed that the crystal’s beat was a bit softer against his leg than it had been when he was working in the other corner nearer the front of the building. The heartbeat itself was still steady and strong, but it was as if the volume had been turned down. Curious, he quickly made his way back to the street-side corner and checked the crystal. It was beating twice as strongly in his palm, as strong as it was when Hermione had been sitting beside him and first placed it in his hand.

It didn’t make sense. Hermione hadn’t mentioned anything about the little charm that would explain it.

What also didn’t make any sense was the location. Hermione was supposed to be in the meeting hall, there was nothing in this part of the rubble but some administrative offices.

Not willing to chance it, he began carefully moving rubble, hoping he was right and not following the whim of a defective gag gift.

\-----

Draco almost hit his knees in relief when he moved a particularly large stone slab covering a large open pocket in the rubble to see a familiar head full of brown curls.

His exhausted voice screamed out her name and he began to frantically move the rest of the small debris covering her as others scrambled to help him. The stone and glass cut his hands to ribbons but he didn’t care, didn’t feel it. All he cared about was getting her out of there.

She wasn’t moving and was covered in dried blood with some of her wounds still oozing heavily. Her face was battered and bloody and the skin he could see was altogether devoid of any color. But she was alive, _barely_ , but still alive.

He gently lifted her from the rubble. To the other rescuers he said hoarsely, “Tell Potter she’s alive and I’m taking her directly to St. Mungo’s.”

Without giving anyone a chance to either reply or stop him he apparated them both to the emergency department of the hospital and screamed for a healer.

The healers and nurses flocked to him and quickly began working to save Hermione’s life.

\-----

Draco got pushed back out of the circle of healers surrounding the gurney they had placed Hermione on. He heard shouts for this potion and that potion and for bandages and dittany.

He felt numb and almost outside of himself as he watched. He was exhausted both physically and mentally.

He almost didn’t hear her when a young intern healer not allowed near Hermione’s bed asked him, “May I heal your hands, sir?”

Draco turned to face the young, earnest healer and dropped his eyes down to his hands which were dripping fat drops of blood onto the floor. He had practically shredded his palms and the pads of his fingers when he was clawing at the debris around Hermione. He hadn’t even noticed. Blankly he nodded and the young healer gently wrapped a clean white towel around each of his hands.

She led him over to another bed in the room and made him sit. Quickly and efficiently she cleaned his wounds and healed them. She had just finished when Harry burst into the room.

Draco stood and went over to Harry. “She’s alive, Potter. I got her here as soon as we cleared the debris off of her. They’re doing all they can.”

Harry nodded, his eyes never leaving the bed where the healers were still clustered around Hermione.

A healer from the group approached them. “We’ve stabilized her for now but she will need extensive healing. Do either of you have the legal authority to authorize us to proceed?”

Draco looked to Harry, figuring that if anyone had Hermione’s medical power of attorney after her divorce it would be him. He was surprised when Harry shook his head. “No. But my wife does and she’s on her way.”

The healer nodded and replied, “We’ll prepare the forms for her to sign.”

The healer went back to Hermione’s bedside and conferred with the rest, meanwhile Draco said to Harry, “You’re not her power of attorney?”

Harry shook his head. “No. She said Ginny keeps her head better in circumstances like this. Plus there’s always the possibility that if Hermione was injured that I might be as well.”

Draco looked back to Hermione’s bed. “I should have gone with her tonight. I’d been invited as well.”

Harry sighed. “Then you’d either be dead or in a bed of your own, Malfoy. And believe it or not, I, for one, am glad you aren’t. You found her and got her here alive.”

“Is anyone claiming responsibility?” Draco asked softly, his voice rough.

“Yes. The Purist group that’s been behind all the other incidents. They sent a missive to the Ministry and the Prophet taking credit for it.”

“We have to stop these bastards, Potter, before they completely destroy our world.”

Before Harry could respond there was a flash of flaming red hair in the door to the room. Ginny had arrived. She stepped over to the two men and Harry quickly filled her in on what they knew of Hermione’s condition.

“They need you to sign off on authorizing more extensive healing, Gin,” Harry finished with.

She nodded. “Okay, let me talk to them.”

She had only taken a step when Draco spoke, his voice a ragged mess. “Mrs. Potter?”

Ginny turned back towards them and met Draco’s eyes waiting for whatever it was he had to say.

“Whatever she needs, cost is no object.”

Ginny nodded once and walked over to the healers. With confident strokes of a quill she signed all the forms they had for her and the buzz of activity around Hermione increased ten-fold.

An Auror stuck his head in the doorway and addressed Harry. “Sir?”

Harry stepped over and conferred with the man quietly for a minute before returning to Ginny and Draco. “I’ve got to go. We’ve got a lead on suspects. I’m leaving two Aurors in the hall but can you both keep your wands handy just in case?”

Ginny replied first, “Of course, Harry. Be careful, will you?”

“I’ll do my best,” he said to her before turning to look at Draco.

Neither man said anything for a long moment before Harry turned and walked out.

\-----

Ginny turned and got a good look at Draco. He was absolutely filthy, his clothes caked with sweat, dust and dirt from the debris, as well as wide streaks of blood, Hermione’s blood from where he had held her so gently to get her here, as well as his own from his shredded hands.

The normally confident and put together man looked broken and exhausted.

She reached over and gave his sleeve a little tug. “C’mon. Let’s sit,” she said as she ticked her head towards the bed he had been sitting on before Harry had arrived.

Draco let her lead him there where they then sat and watched the healers work.

\-----

A while later Draco’s attention had tunnel-visioned to the activity around Hermione. He watched every step of her healing.

He felt something being pressed into his hands and he looked to see Ginny pushing a cup of hot tea at him. He hadn’t even realized she had left to go get tea.

In that universal mother tone of voice she said, “I put some honey in it for your throat. Now drink.”

“Thanks,” he said softly with genuine gratitude.

A healer with a clipboard approached them. “Mrs. Potter, may I have a word?”

Ginny nodded but made to motion to move to give them privacy and the healer added, “In private?”

Ginny’s eyebrow shot up and she said calmly, “You may speak freely in front of Mr. Malfoy.”

The squirrelly healer looked between them both for a moment, knowing full well who they were as well as Hermione. He hesitated but finally spoke. “She responded well to our healing efforts. There was no damage to her internal organs and no internal bleeding. She had five broken ribs, a broken wrist, a broken collar bone, and a fractured skull. All of which have been healed without complication. All of the lacerations on her body have been healed and she was successfully given blood replenishing potions. Her brain is bit swollen from the impact but there is no bleeding on the brain that we can detect. We can’t give her pain medication or use bruise compounds until she wakes up.”

“Have you tried to wake her?” Ginny asked when he was finished.

“No. With a head injury of this type the normal waking spells we would use can be detrimental. It is best to allow her to awaken naturally on her own. We’ll be moving her to a private room in our intensive care unit shortly.”

Both Draco and Ginny let out heavy sighs of relief. Ginny reached over and gave Draco’s forearm a squeeze. Softly she said, “I’m going to let the Aurors know so they can tell Harry at their next check in.”

Draco looked down at the hand she had on his arm, it was an action normally only a friend would do. Was that what he had with Ginny? _Were_ they building a friendship? His tired brain stored it away to think on later and he looked up to meet her eyes. “Okay. Thank you, by the way… for not excluding me.”

Ginny squeezed his arm a bit more and said with a sad smile, “I’m just glad I know about you two and I’m able to do it. For her,” she said ticking her head towards Hermione, “and for you.”

There was a lump in his throat and he had no idea how to respond to that so he simply nodded.

Ginny gave his harm a final squeeze and stood to go speak with the Aurors. “Drink your tea,” she ordered in a bossy motherly way that he couldn’t be irritated with.

He nodded as he lifted his cup and dragged his attention back to Hermione’s bed.  

\-----

tbc...


	7. Waiting

A hour later the healers had Hermione moved to a private room in the intensive care ward. Draco did not let her out of his sight. Ginny, as Hermione’s medical proxy, made sure that it was well documented that Draco be allowed to do so going forward. No one dared argue with her- not the healers and certainly not the Aurors Harry had assigned to guard her.

Draco was deathly quiet through it all. He spoke rarely and generally only to Ginny. He was absolutely exhausted, but determined to protect Hermione and see her wake up.

He claimed a bedside chair as his own and sat. Watching and waiting.

The nurses and healers came and went. Those that knew exactly who he was were giving him odd, rather fearful looks, while those who didn’t still gave him odd, fearful looks as he had his wand in his fist and tensed to use it whenever anyone entered the room.

Ginny came and went often as she was trying to keep Hermione’s friends and family apprised of her condition.

Hours passed.

\-----

Ron, Ginny, and Harry entered Hermione’s room to see a still dirty and dried blood-covered Draco sitting statue still in a chair beside her bed, his wand across his lap with his hand fisted around it. He relaxed a bit once his tired brain realized they weren’t a threat and went back to staring at Hermione’s battered and bruised face. Until Ron spoke up.

“What’s _he_ doing here? It’s supposed to be family only.”

Draco dragged his eyes from Hermione’s too-still face and sneered at Ron. With utter ice in his voice he growled out, “That would leave philandering ex-husbands out then, too, Weasley.”

Ron went for Draco only to be stopped by Ginny. Channeling their mother, Molly, at her most irritated, Ginny snapped at Ron, “Out. Right now.” She manhandled her brother out to the hallway while Harry made a placating gesture towards Malfoy who had stood to meet Ron head on, then joined Ron and Ginny outside.

Ron was still annoyed, at Malfoy, at his sister, and at the situation in general, but Ginny wasn’t having any of it.

“Ronald Weasley, you will leave Draco alone. Do you hear me?” she said firmly.

“Not bloody likely,” Ron snapped back.

“If you still care about Hermione _at all_ , you will.”

“What exactly does that have to do with Malfoy latching onto Hermione all of a sudden like she’s his personal property?”

Ginny looked away, not wanting to break Hermione’s confidence, but it was a secret that needed to come out given the circumstances. “She _is_ his, Ron. They’ve been together almost a year.”

Harry was shocked. Of all the people he might have thought had a chance with Hermione after the divorce, Malfoy wouldn’t have even been scribbled on the back side of his list. But as he ran through a slide show of the more recent interactions he had witnessed between Draco and Hermione in his mind he realized it was fairly plain to see. Still, he wanted confirmation and asked, “A year, Ginny? Why didn’t she tell us?”

Ron’s face took up an expression of horror. “You mean together, together?” he asked.

Ginny faced her husband first. “You and Ron are best friends, and she knows how both of you feel about Draco. She didn’t want it to be a wedge between you all.”

“But she told you?”

“I found out months ago by accident actually, and I promised I would keep it a secret until she was ready for it not to be. Given the circumstances I think it’s important you know now,” she replied lightly and turned towards Ron. “Yes, together, as in a _couple_.”

“Bloody Malfoy! What did he do to her? She’s gotta be under the _Imperius_ curse, there’s no other explanation why she’d be with that git. He’s going to Azkaban this time, I’ll see to it personally.”

Ginny sighed. “No, Ron, she’s not. He just… he loves her. And she loves him. If I hadn’t seen how they are together with my own eyes I wouldn’t have believed it either. But… they are happy, he makes her happy, Ron, and you know she hasn’t been happy in a very long time. And you of all people don’t get to judge her decisions when it comes to relationships.”

The “and why” was loudly implied but not said.

Ron was pacing around the hallway, his anger having no where to vent.

Harry was trying to sort out his own feelings on the matter, he understood why Hermione hadn’t told him, but she was his friend too and it stung that she felt she couldn’t trust him with something so important in her life, Malfoy or not. But then again, she probably thought he had known about Ron’s cheating and kept it from her, something they had never discussed. Harry felt like he let his best friend down just by being oblivious, both about Ron and now Malfoy. Looking at Malfoy objectively, Harry could see how he would actually fit rather well with Hermione. They were both ambitious, intellectual, and polished socially. If he were any other bloke but Malfoy Harry could see the two of them being assets to each other’s careers, the perfect political couple. But he wasn’t some random bloke, he was Malfoy and there was far too much bad history there for Harry to feel completely okay with it all. He knew it wasn’t his decision to make however, it was Hermione’s, and of anyone’s judgment he would always trust hers.

Ginny looked to Harry and said gently, “Why don’t you two go get some air. I’ll check on her and let you know if there’s any change.”

Harry nodded and nudged Ron towards the stairs. “C’mon. Let’s take a walk.

Ginny watched them go before heading back into Hermione’s room.

\-----

Ginny met Draco’s eyes as she sat in the empty chair across the bed from him.

His voice was hoarse as he asked, “Did you tell them?”

Ginny frowned. “Yeah. Under the circumstances I think it’s better that they know. She wouldn’t want them ganging up on you or treating you badly.”

Draco nodded. “Thank you,” he said simply and turned back to staring at Hermione’s pale face.

“Draco, if you want to go get cleaned up, I’ll stay with her.”

He shook his head. “I’m fine.”

A light tap on the door preceded the healer entering the room. “Ah, just the person I’m looking for, Mrs. Potter. May I have a private word?”

Ginny heard Draco’s sharp intake of breath and quickly said to the doctor for the umpteenth time, “Whatever it is can be said in front of Mr. Malfoy.”

Nervously, the healer consulted her clipboard before saying, “Right, then. We ran a series of standard tests on Minister Granger when she arrived here in intensive care to be sure nothing had been missed. We did find something important.”

Ginny looked to Draco to see all of the color drain out of his face. He demanded in a breaking voice, “What did you find?”

The healer swallowed nervously. “Minster Granger is with child. By our estimates she’s about six weeks along. She may not even know yet herself.”

Ginny was floored. “Preg…pregnant? You’re sure?” She knew that Hermione and Ron had tried for a third child for several years without success, so the news was particularly shocking.

“Absolutely, Mrs. Potter, we ran the test twice.”

Draco asked hesitantly, “Is the baby alright? After everything that happened?”

“She’s fit as a fiddle as best we can tell. To be honest, I’m surprised the Minister didn’t lose the babe given the extent of her injuries. But the Minister’s a very strong woman, physically and magically, so she and the babe have that going for them. We’re going to monitor both mother and daughter closely. Neither is entirely out of danger but my prognosis is positive.”

“Anything they need, no matter the cost or inconvenience,” Draco said with conviction.

“Of course, sir,” she replied before leaving the room.

Draco sat back in his chair numbly. He looked over to Ginny and said, “I take it you didn’t know?”

Ginny shook her head. “No. Not a peep to me if she knew. But Draco, that soon she might not have known yet. She wouldn’t have kept that from you.”

A ghost of a smile crossed his mouth. “Actually I think she knew or at least suspected. That night she sent me a patronus asking me to wait up for her because she had something important to tell me. At the time I thought maybe it meant she had finally decided on a destination for our summer holiday, we’ve been bickering over it for a week, but now I’m not so sure. This seems more likely.”

Hesitantly Ginny asked, “Draco, are you… happy about a baby?

“You have no idea how much,” he answered honestly, a genuine smile crossing his face.

“Good.”

“I… I always wanted more children. But Hermione and I had talked about how she and your brother had tried for years with no success so the likelihood of not having children together was something we just accepted.”

Ginny nodded. “She mentioned that when I found out about the two of you,” she smiled warmly at him and continued, “She said it felt like a two-ton weight off of her shoulders that you still wanted to be with her in spite of never being able to have children together. I guess she had been terrified to tell you, afraid it would have chased you away.”

Draco nodded sadly, his chest tightening with emotion over the idea that she had been afraid of him leaving her over not being able to have a child together. “I hate that she worried unnecessarily about that.”

Ginny replied lightly, with a grin, “Exceptionally unnecessary given that you’ve managed to thoroughly get her up the duff.”

Draco snorted in humor at her crude jest, her intention all along. A comfortable quiet fell between he and Ginny. The odd relationship, one most people wouldn’t hesitate to call a friendship, that had sprung up between he and the fiery Mrs. Potter had been a surprise. She was intelligent and fiercely loyal and as he got to know her a little better his regard and respect for her did nothing but grow. He didn’t doubt for a second that she would hex him into oblivion if he purposely hurt Hermione, but he wasn’t particularly worried about that as he had no intentions of ever doing so. Of all the unexpected things in his relationship with Hermione, being able to add Ginny Potter to his list of confidants, friends most normal people would call them, a list that he could honestly count off on the fingers of one hand, surprised him the most.

Or least it had until the healer had announced that Hermione was pregnant with his child. His daughter.

He scrubbed his face with his hands, trying to hold off his exhaustion a bit longer. He reached over and took Hermione’s still hand in his.

They were having a baby. It was almost surreal given the circumstances. There would soon be a little person coming into the world, a combination of the two of them, a daughter, one who was sure to be every bit the brilliant spitfire her mother was. A daughter who would inextricably bind he and Hermione together forever.

His thoughts flickered back to their long overdue conversation about forever. His own feelings of forever had long ago coalesced the night they had christened his library, the night she had pulled him from his nightmare of receiving the Dark Mark, the night he admitted to having feelings for her back at Hogwarts, the night his own heart had firmly decided that nothing save death could or would ever make him leave her.

He had realized with a growing clarity during the weeks that she had been living in his home that he wanted her for his wife. He wanted to marry her in the eyes of the law in the new traditions and he wanted to bind his magic and soul to hers forever in the old traditions, something he had point blank refused to even _consider_ doing with Astoria. He would be the husband Hermione deserved, a true helpmeet and faithful lover, and the adoring father to baby growing beneath her heart as well as a caring and generous step-father to her other children.

Without a doubt there would be ugly, hurtful things said about them both, in the press as well when they merely walked down the street. They might even lose all the political capital they had both worked so hard to accrue over the years. Hermione could even lose her seat as Minister in the next election if public opinion was swayed the other way. All of that they could weather together, but he worried about what their friends and families would think, hers more than his to be honest. They would have to figure out the best course of action together; she would know better how to navigate her friends.

These were all things they were supposed to have talked about, hashed out together. But now, all of that- the baby, getting married, telling the world- was contingent upon her waking up. As he sat there holding her motionless hand he wished there was a way to give her some of his strength through force of will alone. She _had_ to wake up. He couldn’t bear it if she left him now.

He cleared his throat gently and said, “Can I ask a favor?”

“Of course.”

“Let’s keep the baby news to ourselves for now,” he said as he stroked Hermione’s still hand in his, “she should be the one to tell people.”

That he meant Ron and Harry was unspoken but clear as day to Ginny.

“Okay. We’ll let her surprise everyone.”

\-----

Ginny quietly closed the door behind her and left to head home, as exhausted as anyone else. She nodded at the two Aurors guarding the door and turned to go. She pulled herself up sort seeing someone totally unexpected waiting anxiously in the hallway.

“Mrs. Malfoy,” she said in way of greeting.

“Mrs. Potter,” Narcissa replied then asked with what Ginny thought oddly was genuine concern, “How is Minister Granger?”

“She’s still unconscious. But her prognosis is good. It’s just a waiting game to see when she wakes up.”

Narcissa let out a breath. “That’s excellent news. The media is announcing her condition as far graver. I was… concerned.”

“Concerned? Pardon my skepticism,” Ginny replied as she crossed her arms in front of her.

“I… I know about her and Draco as do you. I have for months. I became worried when Draco began not acting as himself. He was ridiculously jocular and charming and… _lighter_ as if a great burden had suddenly been removed from his shoulders.”

“Happy. You mean he was acting _happy_ ,” Ginny said with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes. I didn’t recognize it at first for what it was, I had never seen him like that in his entire life. I worried he might be abusing some sort of addictive potion or something, so I investigated but found instead that he was simply spending time with the Minister. And the more time he spent with her, the happier he became. You’re a mother, you know that wanting our children to be happy is innate, even for mothers as awful a person as you think I am. I just want Draco to be happy and I will respect her place in his life if she’s what makes him truly happy.”

“They make each other happy, Mrs. Malfoy.”

“Good. I think they’ve perhaps both earned that.”

“I think so, too,” Ginny agreed and relaxed her defensive posture, hearing the genuine sincerity in Narcissa’s words. Ginny was also aware that since the war Narcissa had distanced herself greatly from purist ideology and her husband. It began after the war crimes trials. Narcissa had accepted her sentence of community service with dignity and threw herself into helping, both physically and financially, to rebuild the wizarding cultural and arts facilities that had been damaged or destroyed. She had led a very low-key life since the final battle without incident or scandal.

She gestured toward Hermione’s room, “Draco’s sitting beside her if you want to go in.”

Narcissa shook her head. “He wouldn’t appreciate my being here.”

“You’re his mother, you may be surprised.”

“Perhaps. Is there anything he needs? Do you know if he’s eaten, I could arrange something?”

“Actually he could use a fresh set of clothes. He’s still in the same ones he had on when he pulled her from the rubble. I tried to get him to go home for a bit and change but….”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“I’ll say goodnight then, Mrs. Malfoy, her children will be here in the morning and I have an early start,” Ginny said with a mild expression.

“Get some rest, Mrs. Potter, your family needs you right now, especially your niece and nephew. And, please, if there is anything I can do… I genuinely wish to be helpful.”

Ginny nodded and gestured to the Aurors that it would be alright to allow Mrs. Malfoy entry to the room. While she might not entirely trust Narcissa Malfoy, Ginny trusted Draco to keep Hermione safe. Then she headed for the stairs, deciding to process how bizarre the entire exchange was tomorrow after a little sleep and a lot of coffee.

\-----

Draco was numb, mentally and physically numb. Utterly exhausted he pulled his chair closer to Hermione’s bed and continued to hold her hand. He could feel her pulse, steady and strong, and it lulled him into a doze.

The sound of door opening woke him with a start. He blinked away the sleep to see his mother standing there with a carpet bag in her other hand and lowered the wand he had raised on instinct.

“Mother? What are you doing here?” he rasped out, his voice still a victim of his exhaustion.

Narcissa took in Draco’s filthy and disheveled appearance, the deep circles under his eyes aging her handsome son at least a decade.

“I… I was worried about you and… Hermione.”

Draco raised an eyebrow in disbelief. Narcissa continued, “I know you two have been seeing each other for months and that she is the reason you’ve changed into a man filled with so much joy that he’s started bringing his wretched mother flowers just because he can.”

“Mother, I….”

“You love her, Draco, I can read that clearly all over your face. I won’t pretend to understand it completely given your respective pasts and your father will undoubtedly be furious, but I promise you that _I_ will respect her place in your life, in your heart. She makes you happy and that my dear son, is all I have _ever_ wanted for you in this world.”

There was a raw sincerity in her voice that made Draco say, “Thank you, Mother,” emotionally before moving to hug her.

Narcissa stopped him with a single finger to his chest. “Not until you’ve showered,” she said as she held out the carpet bag to him, “I’ve brought you your travel kit and fresh clothes and I’ve arranged with the nurses for you use the shower here on this floor. Now, please, go get cleaned up. I’ll stay with Hermione until you get back so she’s not alone.”

“I…I can’t leave her.”

“Yes. You can. Her children will be here in the morning and the way you look right now would completely terrify them. They don’t need to see their mother’s blood all over you, that is not an impression you want to make upon them if you wish to have a place in their lives in the future. So, please, go and clean up, she won’t be alone, I promise.”

\-----

Draco reluctantly left the room not saying a word as one of the Aurors Harry had stationed outside stepped into the room and stood silently by the door. Harry, at Ginny’s insistence, had allowed Draco to be alone with Hermione but it wasn’t a privilege granted to anyone else, not even the healers.

Narcissa nodded politely at the Auror then sat in the chair Draco had vacated, frowning a bit at how uncomfortable it was. She regarded the still woman on the bed. She could see that the doctor’s spell work had taken care of the majority of Hermione’s injuries, but there was still a great deal of bruising that was starting to turn spectacular colors.

She reached over and neatly folded a mussed corner of blanket and without knowing exactly why she did it, she reached over and smoothed Hermione’s hair a little.

Her eyes traveled down to Hermione’s arm that was lying on top of the blankets. Narcissa gasped as she saw the _mudblood_ scar still clear as day on Hermione’s arm even after all these years, a scar Narcissa’s own sister had given her. Narcissa didn’t know what to think of that, she wondered why Hermione had never had the vile thing removed and then she paused in her musings to wonder if Bellatrix had cursed it somehow, making it irremovable.

She reached up and smoothed another lock of Hermione’s hair. Narcissa’s voice was soft in the quiet room as she said, “You need to wake up. You need to come back to him. He needs you. Your children need you. You have always been the fiercest of fighters, so fight for them now, fight to come back.”

\-----

A short while later Draco returned and the Auror stepped back out. Draco’s hair was damp but clean, his face still drawn and tired but now free of dirt and blood and was cleanly shaven. He was wearing the clean clothes his mother had brought and he smelled infinitely better.

Narcissa stood and gave him a warm smile as he came in. “Feel better?”

“Much. Thank you for insisting. And for sitting with her.”

She reached over and cupped his cheek. “It was no trouble.”

Impulsively he wrapped his mother in a bone-crushing hug. He was so exhausted, so worried, that he couldn’t have stopped his tears if he had tried. Narcissa just held him, squeezing him close and murmuring soothing words. When the worst of it had passed he pulled back a little, he opened his mouth to say something but closed it again.

Narcissa caught this and asked, “What is it, Draco? Tell me.”

He looked to the bed and took Hermione’s hand. He looked to his mother and whispered, “She’s pregnant.”

“A baby?” Narcissa breathed out softly.

Draco nodded. “We just found out. Ginny and I are going to keep it quiet until Hermione wakes up.”

“I’m going have another grandchild?” she asked, the hopeful surprise evident on her face as she smiled.

Draco took in his mother’s somewhat unexpected reaction to the news as she wore the same joyful expression she had when he had told her Astoria was pregnant with Scorpius. He knew that her adherence to Pureblood dogma had mellowed considerably since the war, but for her to actually accept a mixed blood grandchild was a surprise. “Yes, a granddaughter, actually. Are you truly okay with this, Mother?”

Narcissa’s eyes flicked to the vile scar on Hermione’s arm and what it meant. Realizing what Draco was actually asking her, she turned to face her son and smiled warmly. “This child is a part of you how could I not be okay with it?”

“There will be those who aren’t, we both know that, Father especially.”

“True. I think you’re right to keep this quiet for the time being. It will give us time to plan on how to keep them both safe. Because you and I both know they won’t be.”

“You’ll help us?” 

“Always, Draco, always. For now you should try and get some sleep, she needs you rested. I took the liberty of enchanting that chair’s cushion, your back will thank me. I will stop by tomorrow. Keep your wand close, keep her and my granddaughter safe. 

He kissed his mother’s cheek and she left the room. He sat back down in the chair that had become his permanent perch since Hermione was admitted, smiling to himself as his tired body thoroughly appreciated his mother’s spell work on the chair. He took Hermione’s hand and found her pulse beating steady and true and let it lull him back to sleep.

\-----

Draco startled at yet another scrape of the door opening and instantly raised his wand. He shook off the sleep and turned to see Harry there holding out a tea. It was a totally unexpected kindness. He lowered his wand.

He took the tea with a muttered thanks and Harry gave his a shoulder an odd little squeeze of support before moving to sit in the empty chair on the other side of the bed. “Any change ?” he asked quietly.

Draco shook his head and took a sip of tea, appreciating its warmth.

“She’s a fighter and she’s strong. We just need to give her time,” Harry said confidently.

“I hope you’re right, Potter,” Draco replied sadly.

Harry ticked his head and regarded the other man for a moment. There was nearly no trace of the arrogant little git he had known from school in the man sitting before him. This man instead looked afraid and broken and lost. Probably exactly how Harry would look if it were Ginny lying in that bed instead. He scratched his chin absently and thought about what Ginny had screamed at Ron yesterday, Malfoy and Hermione in love. It boggled his mind. But sitting here he could see it so clearly etched in every worry line on Malfoy’s face.

“Nearly a year?” Harry asked quietly.

Draco looked over and nodded. “We ran into each other at our divorce lawyer’s office and became… friends.”

“And that became something more?”

Draco stared at Hermione’s pale face. “As both our divorces became final, things shifted, grew into something different.”

Bluntly Harry asked, “Do you love her, Malfoy?”

Draco turned to face Harry, a resolute set to his jaw, and said hoarsely with no hint of hesitation, “More than I ever thought possible to love a woman.”

Harry nodded once in affirmation. “If you ever hurt her…,” he said with a hint of steel in his voice.

It was Draco’s turn to nod.

And with that, an understanding was reached between the two men.

Draco sat back and picked up his tea. Both men sat for a while lost in their own thoughts.

Draco interrupted Harry’s musing with a quiet question. “Is there any word the perpetrators?” he asked as he put his tea down on bedside table.

Harry nodded. “We’ve got one in custody and my entire department is looking for the other three co-conspirators that he named.”

“Do we know definitively why they did it?”

Harry hesitated for a moment, wondering how Malfoy would take what he was going to say next. “They are definitely part of that new Purist movement we’ve been hunting. According to the one in custody removing Hermione from office because she’s Muggle-born is one of their biggest goals.”

Harry watched the anger flash across Malfoy’s face, seeing him grit his teeth so hard it made Harry’s jaw ache just to watch, even as Draco’s hands fisted in his lap. Harry knew that there hadn’t been so much as a whiff of a rumor of Draco being involved in pureblood movements or dark magic since the war.

He met Harry’s eyes and said with deadly conviction, “If you need resources- men, bribe money, anything to find these bastards you’ll have it. You have my word.”

“The Ministry’s throwing everything they’ve got at finding them but I’ll let them know of your offer.”

Draco nodded and scrubbed his face with his hands. Harry stood to leave. “I’m going to go get a couple hours sleep then rejoin the search. You’ll let me know if there’s any change?”

“Of course.”

“Okay. I’ll check in with you later,” Harry replied as he headed for the door. He had just opened it to leave when Draco called his name.

“Potter.”

“Yeah?”

“If the unthinkable happens, I _will_ find them myself. And what happens to them won’t be pretty.”

Harry took a deep breath. “You’re not the only one thinking that, Malfoy. Trust me.”

 

tbc...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clarify, because I've received multiple comments questioning it - Ron is and always will be a huge part of Hermione's life. Yes, he's her cheating ex-husband, but he's still the father of her children and as such she's still going to have to deal with him on a regular basis. Yes, my commenters are correct, he has no say or veto power over her romantic decisions, but he's certainly going to voice an opinion and he has a certain right to as any new romantic interest of hers will be interacting with his children. And other than the fact that he's an idiot that let his penis make bad decisions for him, I've never said anything in the context of this story about Hermione and Ron hating each other. Yes, he cheated and lied about it, and, no, she couldn't live with that and divorced him, but that was the extent of what I described. Romantic relationships and their ends are always complicated and no two are ever alike. More so even when there are children involved. As the author of this story I made a decision as to how I envision their divorce and post-breakup behavior and it does not involve them burning with hatred for each other. -CJ aka WritinginCT


	8. Mown Grass, Fresh Parchment, and Spearmint Toothpaste

“You both sit there for a minute while I check with the healers to be sure it’s a good time for us to go in,” Ginny said as she pointed to chairs in the waiting area down the corridor from Hermione’s room.

Rose and Hugo obediently went and sat down, both still more than a little worried over what had happened to their mother even with their aunt’s reassurance that she was okay even though she hadn’t woken up yet. The two Aurors assigned to protect the children took up sentry positions in the hall.

Ginny disappeared towards their mother’s room and the two siblings sat waiting.

Rose saw a well dressed older woman approach the Auror standing guard in the corridor, she spoke with him for a moment then turned with a pleasant smile and came and sat in the empty chair next to Rose.

The woman didn’t say anything but arraigned herself daintily in the chair with her ankles crossed and her hands calmly in her lap.

Rose looked at the witch’s shoes, they were beautiful dark green button up shoes with a pointed toe and very high curved heels. There were all sorts of swirls and designs embossed into the leather and were, without a doubt, the prettiest shoes Rose had ever seen.

So being a friendly and outspoken child, she told the lady so.

\-----

Narcissa had seen the two children sitting in the waiting room when she entered the corridor. After verifying that Draco and Ginny were in with the healers, she smiled at the young Aurors who were so politely doing their duty and went and sat down in the empty chair next to Hermione’s eldest.

She didn’t look at them or speak to them, thinking that the Aurors most likely wouldn’t take kindly to her doing so, regardless of their friendly nature. At least she didn’t until a confident little voice that had all the makings of her mother said to her, “I like your shoes. They’re very pretty.”

Narcissa turned to face Rose and saw the genuineness of the girls remark written plainly all over her face. She was as guileless as her mother. Narcissa smiled warmly at the girl. “Thank you. They are some of my favorites.”

“Are they hard to walk in?”

Narcissa shook her head. “Not anymore. I’ve had many years of practice. I actually started practicing about your age, in fact. I had gotten my first pair which were not even half this high and I would walk for hours up and down the hallways of our family home and round and round my bedroom until I could walk in them without turning my ankles.”

“My mum doesn’t wear shoes anywhere near that high.”

“Many witches don’t. Your mother is a busy woman and always on the go, I can understand her not wanting to wear something too high or too uncomfortable.” Narcissa had always thought that Hermione dressed rather plainly, always appropriately, but quite simply, for function and not fashion and that there was nothing wrong with that in her eyes in the grand scheme of propriety. Narcissa had to admit that Hermione did always look quite lovely at formal events, wearing becoming colors and gowns that were tasteful and not scandalous or immodest in any way. And she remembered photographs Draco had shown her from the Yule Ball their fourth year where Hermione had stunned everyone with her unexpected transformation. She had been a vision of a daughter any mother would have been quite proud of.

Rose picked up on the fact that Narcissa knew who her mother was. “You know my mother?”

Narcissa nodded, “Yes, she went to school with my son.”

“May I ask, who is your son?”

Narcissa hesitated for the briefest of moments, Rose was old enough to know about the war and all the key players of which Draco and the Malfoy name featured heavily, before answering. “Draco Malfoy.”

As it turned out it was something completely different that young Rose knew him for as she asked, “Scorpius’ dad?”

Narcissa nodded. “Yes.”

Rose smiled, something else Narcissa didn’t expect. “My mum is friends with him. She wrote in her letters that he’s building the new part of the hospital. I see pictures of them together in the Daily Prophet when Mum has to go to fancy parties as Minister.”

Narcissa nodded. “They go to many of the same events. I’ve seen the same pictures you’re talking about. They always seem to be having fun don’t they?”

Rose nodded but before she could reply Hugo quietly asked the question Narcissa had been dreading, “Is he the Draco Malfoy from the war?”

Narcissa paused a moment and didn’t know how to answer.

Rose beat her to it. “Of course he is, how many Draco Malfoys do you think Mum went to school with?”

“So he and Mum are friends now? I thought he hated Muggle-borns? Dad said he used make fun of Mum in school and was really mean to her. And that he was a…,” Hugo’s voice dropped to a whisper, “Death Eater.”

Narcissa decided honesty was the best way to go. “All of that is true. But it was also a very long time ago and my son has done a lot of growing up since then. He no longer carries that hate in his heart and does all he can to make up for the things he did during the war. Your mother has forgiven him and they have become good friends.”

Hugo thought on all that for a moment when he put another piece together. “That means you are _Narcissa_ Malfoy? The one who lied to Voldemort and saved Uncle Harry.”

“I am,” Narcissa answered simply, trying not to outwardly cringe at the casual use of the Dark Lord’s name. Even after all the years that had passed since his demise, she was still afraid of the dark wizard, something her nightmares could well attest to.

“Do you still hate Muggle-borns?” Rose asked softly.

Narcissa shook her head. “No. Like my son I’ve done some growing up since the war.” She thought to herself that that was a good thing, too, as she was most definitely going to have a granddaughter of mixed blood and, if the look on her son’s face was any indication, she would most likely soon have a Muggle-born daughter-in-law. She wondered what Rose and Hugo’s reaction would be to finding out the true nature of both Draco and Hermione’s relationship as well as the half-sister they had coming. She hoped for all their sakes that it was positive.

Rose thought on that for a moment. “Mum says that we learn and grow our whole lives and that we should never close off our heart or mind to new things.”

Narcissa smiled. “Your mother is a wise woman. It’s what makes her a good Minister and from the sounds of it, a wonderful mother.”

“I’m worried about her. They say she still won’t wake up. But they don’t know why.”

Before Narcissa could answer, Ginny, along with a healer in a crisp white rope came into view in the corridor to Hermione’s room.

Ginny shook the healer’s hand. “Thank you, Healer Walsh.”

The healer nodded and replied, “I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

She left and Ginny turned to the three in the waiting area.

Narcissa worried briefly if she would be blocking hexes thrown her way for being there and speaking with the Minister’s children. But instead found herself the recipient of a little nod and closed mouth smile from Mrs. Potter.

She stood as Ginny approached, keeping her own expression friendly and concerned.

“Mrs. Malfoy.”

“Mrs. Potter.”

“I saw that you were able to get through to him last night.”

Narcissa nodded. “He just needed the right sort of encouragement,” she replied as she tilted her head and gestured with her eyes towards the two children. She knew that the other witch would understand. Of all the negative things people could say about Draco, being a bad father was not one of them. He would not have wanted to further traumatize Hermione’s already traumatized children.

Ginny nodded, letting Narcissa know she understood. Narcissa then asked, “How is she today?”

“The same, but all her scans are strong so it’s still a matter of waiting.”

Rose interrupted before Narcissa could reply. “Can we see Mum now, Aunt Ginny?”

Ginny turned her attention to Rose and Hugo. “Yes. But remember what we talked about? That they can’t heal her bruises until she wakes up and that she looks a bit frightful?”

Both children nodded and Ginny gestured towards the corridor to Hermione’s room. “Alright then, let’s go in.”

They turned to go when Ginny looked back at Narcissa and said unexpectedly, “You’re welcome to join us if you like.”

Narcissa wondered what it meant that the other woman was being so friendly, but it didn’t stop her from following them towards the room.

Just before they entered the room the familiar face of Harry Potter came into view as he rounded the far corridor corner. With forced lightness he asked, “Can anyone crash this party?”

“Uncle Harry!” Rose exclaimed and flew into his open arms, Hugo soon following.

“Have you been in to see your mum yet?” Harry asked.

It was Ginny who replied. “We were just about to go in.”

Harry looked to the children. “Did your Aunt Ginny warn you about the bruises?”

Both children nodded and Harry continued, “Good. C’mon let’s go see her.”

Harry acknowledged Narcissa with a simple, “Mrs. Malfoy.” He didn’t question her presence here as Ginny had shared her conversation with the older woman from yesterday with him.

“Mr. Potter,” she replied cordially.

Then they all filed into Hermione’s room.

\-----

Draco stood as the entourage entered the room. He subtly put his wand away not wanting to appear in any way aggressive towards Hermione’s children.

Rose rushed to the side of the bed opposite Draco, her face distraught. Her brother Hugo came up beside his sister. Rose went to touch her mother’s hand but stopped herself, not knowing if she were allowed.

Softly, before anyone else could say anything, Draco said, “You can touch her, hold her hand if you want. I know she looks frightening at the moment but I promise that they’ve healed all her injuries except for those bruises.”

Rose didn’t look away from her mother’s battered face but nodded then reached for her mother’s hand. She held it gently and whispered, “Mum? Me and Hugo are here. You can wake up now.”

Draco was also looking at Hermione’s face, hoping against hope that her eyes would open at the sound of her daughter’s voice. He tried, but failed, not to be disappointed when it didn’t happen. He looked up to see Hugo staring across the bed at him.

“Aunt Ginny said you’re the one who found Mum,” Hugo stated, still staring at Draco.

“I am and I brought her here straightaway so the healers could work their magic on her,” Draco replied evenly.

“Why are you still here?” Hugo asked.

“Because I care about your mother and don’t want her to be alone.”

When Hugo’s, “Even though she’s Muggle-born?”, was asked quietly the other adults in the room all sucked in an audible breath.

Draco was the only one not unsettled by the question and didn’t hesitate to answer. “That’s something I don’t judge people by any longer, I haven’t for a very long time.”

“But you did.”

“I did. But, it was a long time ago and things were different. _I_ was different. I’ve done a lot of growing up since the war. This isn’t really the time or place to talk about it all, but later on if you like, you, me, and your Uncle Harry can sit down for a long talk and I’ll answer all your questions. I promise.”

Draco’s eyes flicked to Harry and could see that the other man approved of how Draco was handling Hugo. He returned his attention to Hugo and the boy nodded.

Rose’s voice added to the mix. “I see you in pictures with mum in the Prophet all the time.”

“We go to a lot of the same events covered by the paper.”

Rose looked down to her mother’s battered face, her lip quivered and her voice was a little shaky as she said, “The last one I saw was the two of you dancing. She was smiling at you and she looked so happy. I haven’t seen her smile like that in a long time.”

“That must have been the hospital gala. She was happy that night and we both enjoyed ourselves,” Draco replied lightly, seeing how close to crying Rose was.

The room was quiet for a long moment before something clicked in Rose’s head. Her eyes whipped up to meet Draco’s and she said without a hint of doubt, “It’s you.”

“Excuse me? I don’t quite follow,” he replied, unsure of where the conversation was heading.

“Mum said in one of her letters that she had started dating someone she really liked but didn’t say who. It’s you, isn’t I?”

Draco’s stomach clenched. This was not at all how he wanted Hermione’s children to find out about them. He glanced to Harry who gave a minuscule shrug. He refocused on Rose, who was still awaiting his affirmation that she was correct. In that moment Draco decided not to lie or obfuscate with Rose and Hugo. He was anticipating becoming their step-father in the near future and he would not have his relationship with them starting off with untruths. There was nothing wrong or shameful about his relationship with their mother and he wouldn’t give them the impression that there was. Finally he nodded and replied confidently, “Yes, it is.”

Rose nodded but didn’t say a word. Her brother was not so shy and demanded, “Really?” as he stared at Draco.

Draco met the young man’s eyes and tried to decipher what he saw there. “Yes, Hugo, for a quite a while now.”

Rose asked, “Does Scorpius know?”

Draco shook his head. “No. Your mother and I were waiting until you three were home for the summer for us to sit down and tell all of you.”

Hugo looked to his aunt, then his uncle. “You both knew?”

Harry replied gently with a shake of his head, “I found out yesterday.”

Ginny took over from Harry. “I’ve known for a few months but your mum asked me to keep it a secret until she was ready to tell people.”

“Does Dad know?” Rose asked, a look of worry on her face.

Harry replied, “He does. He found out when I did.”

“He’s angry about it isn’t he?”

Harry grinned, Rose knew her father well. “He was loud, for sure. He and Mr. Malfoy have never gotten along so it was a bit of shock for your dad. But he’ll get over it.”

Rose snorted. “It’s not really his business is it?”

Before Harry could respond, Draco said softly, “Rose, I know it may be hard to believe after their divorce and everything that happened, but your parents still care about one another. They always will. They just weren’t meant to be married any longer, same as Scorpius’ mum and I weren’t meant to be married any longer either. I will always look out for her, the same as your dad will always look out for your mum. I’m sure that once she wakes up that she will sort out a truce between me and your dad now that he knows we’re dating.”

Rose sniffed and stared hard at Draco. “Don’t you let him muck it up if she’s finally happy.”

The corner of Draco’s mouth quirked up, Rose was Hermione through and through. “I won’t, I promise.”

Draco’s attention was pulled away from Rose when too-perceptive for his own age Hugo said, “You don’t care about Mum.”

“Hugo!” Ginny admonished.

Hugo turned and faced Ginny and Harry. “What? He doesn’t. You care about Quidditch, you care about your grades, you care about breakfast. He doesn’t care about Mum,” Hugo said emphatically then added, “He loves her. And he should just be honest and say so.”

Harry snorted back a laugh. Hugo had all the tact of his father sometimes. Harry sobered quickly at the flat look his wife gave him but it lasted all of a second or two before he chuckled again. He looked to Ginny and shrugged. “Sorry, Gin, but he’s right,” he said to her then turned to Draco, “Well, Malfoy? Quaffle’s in your hands now.”

All attention turned towards Draco. He met Hugo’s eyes and nodded. “You’re right, Hugo, you should never be afraid to say it when you love someone. And I do… love your mother…very, very much.”

The collected gasp at his words filled the room. A bit flustered, Draco looked down at Hermione and gently brushed his knuckles across her still cheek. He hoped she would be proud of how he handled things with Rose and Hugo, he had done his veritable best.

\-----

A while later, Harry lagged behind as Ginny and Narcissa took the children down to the hospital cafe for something to eat. Rose had surprised them, Narcissa most of all, when she had turned to the older witch and asked plainly, “Are you coming with us, Mrs. Malfoy?”

A quick glance to Ginny let Narcissa know it was completely up to her as to whether or not she accepted the invitation as Ginny simply gave her a subtle tic of her head. It only took her a moment to answer. “I’d be delighted to have tea with you, Rose.”

After they had gone Draco had sat back down wearily. Harry stood at the foot of the bed and stared at Hermione’s battered face.

Finally, Harry broke the silence. “That went well.”

Draco met his eyes and nodded. “I was winging it, just so you know.”

Harry chuckled. “I’ll let you in on a little secret, I’ve been winging it since the day James was born. Now that he’s older I’ve decided that winging it is probably the very definition of fatherhood.”

The corner of Draco’s mouth curled up in humor. “Same here with Scorpius. I really had no idea how to be anyone’s father except to not be like my own.” He steeled himself for some sort of scathing reply from Harry about his father, but it never came.

“Well, for the two of us winging it, we’ve managed to raise some good kids, Malfoy.”

At that moment Draco itched to tell Harry about the baby, somehow knowing that the other man would be happy for them. But he didn’t. “Yes, we have, Potter.”

“How’s Scorpius going to take the news you think?”

Draco chuckled. “He’s been nagging at me in his letters to get a girlfriend so I suspect he’ll be happy about it.”

“And your ex-wife?”

Draco snorted. “She’ll be a right snot about it all. It’ll be like being back in the fourth year and dealing with all the girls who didn’t get asked to the Yule ball.”

It was Harry’s turn to chuckle. “That ball was such a disaster,” he replied.

The two men were quiet for a couple of minutes before Harry left to get back to work leaving Draco alone with Hermione and his thoughts once again.

\-----

Narcissa sipped her tea as she listened intently to Rose as the young woman shared most excitedly about all her classes Hogwarts. Her verbal romp had started when Narcissa had merely asked her about her schooling as a means to start a conversation. She could so very clearly see Hermione in Rose as the girls enthusiasm for learning shone through.

Hugo interjected his own bits about school, not nearly as interested in academics as his sister but he did well in his classes and was particularly excited about having joined the Hogwarts Wizard Chess club.

Ginny’s acceptance of her presence there surprised Narcissa a bit, honestly. But the other witch simply ate her sandwich and sipped her tea and let the lunch conversation unfold as it willed.

There was a lull in the conversation as the two children ate their food and Narcissa was once again surprised by Ginny when she said, “I saw you a few months ago in Diagon Alley, when I mentioned it to Draco he told me you had been on a trip to Tuscany. I haven’t seen any of Italy, what’s it like?”

\-----

Ginny was an exceptionally pragmatic witch. She knew that Draco was to be an even bigger part of Hermione’s life going forward. Their relationship was now all but public knowledge and in a few short months their daughter would arrive and bind them together even further. As hard as it was to believe, Ginny actually found it rather easy to get along with this adult version of Draco. Hermione had never been happier and in return it was obvious that Draco was very much in love with Hermione, his every action screaming it so loudly it was almost a bit humbling. Ginny had also been rather pleased by the way Draco had just so very kindly interacted with Rose and Hugo, it boded well for his relationship with them in the future.

But with Draco came a rather grey past and a bigoted, angry, hateful father. Since the war Draco had most definitely distanced himself far, far away from any of the blood purist dogma and factions. He had worked hard to build a life he could be proud of, one that, while not able to completely erase his sins of the war, had done much to make up for his misdeeds. His father Lucius on the other hand, while fairly neutered after the war and his influence severely limited, still clung to those hateful ideals he held so dear. Draco wanted nothing to do with his father, and, in fact, refused to let his own son interact with Lucius at all. Ginny had no doubt that Draco would never allow Lucius to harm Hermione or their yet-to-be-born daughter.

While one of Draco’s parents was still repulsive to the core, his other was not. Narcissa had become somewhat of a social pariah after the war. She separated from Lucius but was unable to break the magical binding on her marriage contract to outright divorce him. She had accepted her sentence of community service after the war trials with grace and had worked diligently to rebuild historic wizarding museums and theaters that had been damaged in the war. She became her own woman, independent in mind and body and through the years her actions had softened public opinion of her a bit. Well, softened at least to the point where people no longer spat at her as she walked in Diagon Alley and she could make appearances at public events without fear for her life. Like Draco, she, too, left behind the rabid pure blood ideology of the Black family she was born into and the Malfoy family she was married into. Draco had maintained a good relationship with his mother and they sometimes worked together on public works projects.

Ginny liked to think she was a fairly good judge of character and when she allowed herself to really see the Narcissa Malfoy of the past two days, she found that what she saw was actually be rather pleasant and amenable. If Ginny had just met the woman today there wouldn’t be any inkling of distrust or dislike. She knew that Narcissa would come part and parcel with Draco and having been raised not to be spiteful for spite’s sake, Ginny decided to take the high road and be cordial and perhaps get to know the older witch a bit better.

So she said conversationally, “I saw you a few months ago in Diagon Alley, when I mentioned it to Draco he told me you had been on a trip to Tuscany. I haven’t seen any of Italy, what’s it like?”

There was a definite pause in Narcissa. In just a heartbeat she quickly analyzed Ginny’s friendly intention before she relaxed and replied happily. She told them all about Italy and a few of the other places she had traveled. She answered questions from Ginny and the children warmly. It was a most pleasant conversation.

When their food and tea were finished they stood to go. Ginny instructed both of them to go use the lavatory and they obliged with their protective Aurors following closely.

Narcissa had stood and was straightening out the skirt of her dress. She met Ginny’s eyes and softly she said, “Thank you. For including me today.”

Ginny smiled and replied, “You’re welcome. Draco told me earlier that he told you about the baby.”

It was Narcissa’s turn to smile. “He did, I don’t think he meant to, he was just overwrought.”

Ginny nodded. “We all are in our own way with everything that’s happened. Given the past, Mrs. Malfoy, I have to ask, are you okay with them having a baby together?”

“Very much so, Mrs. Potter. I can’t wait to meet my granddaughter.”

“Will you help us protect them?” Ginny asked.

“Without question. Especially from my estranged husband, his reaction is guaranteed to be angry and violent. But all of us working together will surely keep them both safe, Mrs. Potter.”

“Yes, we, will. And you may call me Ginny, please.”

Narcissa tilted her head in response and replied, “And you may call me Narcissa.”

The children returned and Ginny took them up to see their mother for a little while longer. Narcissa headed off to an afternoon meeting at the Transfiguration Museum to see about upgrading their outdated furnishing and draperies, her latest good works project happily and generously financed by her son.

None of them, the Aurors included, took any notice of the ancient wrinkled and balding old wizard sitting at a cafe table with his cane leaning against his thigh and a cup of untouched tea in front of him. And because they took no notice of what seemed to be just an innocuous old man, they all missed both his sneer of revulsion as their group passed him on their way out and the utter ice in his pale grey eyes.

\-----

_A week later…_

It was the middle of yet another quiet night, the ninth such night Draco had spent sitting beside Hermione’s bed in the chair that he felt certain had made a permanent impression upon his spine. The light in the room was lowered, soft and restful, but Draco was far from restful.

Mentally Draco was at the end of his emotional rope. Never in his life had he been so afraid of losing someone he loved and yet here he was begging fate and magic itself to not to take Hermione and their daughter from him.

He slumped in the chair. Resting on his forefingers and thumbs was a small velvet box that he was squinting at in his exhaustion.. A small velvet box he had been carrying around since it was delivered to him at the hospital yesterday by special courier. A small velvet box the contents of which Draco had special ordered the second week Hermione had been using his home as a safe house in fact. A small velvet box containing a ring which Draco was now staring at so intently.

The ring itself had a beautiful new setting, hand-crafted from a design Draco had wanted and had described in detail to the jeweler. The flawless five carat square diamond it held, however, was not new and, in fact, had a long and interesting provenance that could be traced through both magical and Muggle aristocrats and nobility, and ultimately to a sultan in the Middle East who had purchased the raw stone and had it cut centuries ago to adorn his favorite among his harem. There was an amusing story to be told there, one Hermione would eat up and which Draco had intended to regale to his history-loving swot when he proposed as they lay by a roaring fire in a private chateau in the Alps. Or he supposed if she had gotten her way about their holiday, on a pristine beach at sunset on a island in the tropics.

Draco knew without question that he wanted to marry Hermione. He didn’t care who might object, he loved her and she loved him and that was all that mattered in the grand scheme of things. He wanted her to be his wife and to be her husband and they would raise their daughter together in a home filled with genuine love and affection and respect for all others.

His father would, without question, lose his mind over it all. But Draco hadn’t cared what his father thought about, well, anything since their little family had fled from a battle ravaged Hogwarts. His mother’s support of his relationship with Hermione was in direct opposition to what he believed his father’s reaction would be and had surprised him in the best sorts of ways.

Scorpius, he thought, would be happy for them as he had teased his father in his letters about needing a girlfriend more than once and Draco was certain he would be most excited about being a big brother, something his son had often vocalized desiring through the years. Rose and Hugo he wasn’t as sure of, not knowing them well personally. He did know that both of them, Rose in particular, had been angry with their father for hurting their mother. What he did not know was whether that anger would transfer to any new man in Hermione’s life, namely him. But then again, Hermione had shared letters from Rose in which she nagged her mother to start dating again and to be happy and Rose had seemed rather accepting of it all when they first met over Hermione’s hospital bed and she figured out that it was he, in fact, who her mother was dating. Hugo, too, had seemed to be rather accepting once Draco had been completely honest about his feelings for Hermione. All three children loved their parents and none had iota of hate in their hearts. It might take time and patience for them to accept it completely, but he was confident they could make it work.

Astoria was likely to be a bit of a problem, not so much overtly or through their son as she would lose the generous alimony allowance she had been awarded in the divorce faster than you could say Quidditch thanks to carefully phrased restrictions Draco had demanded in their divorce agreement regarding slander and libel and the poisoning of their son’s mind. Rather, he could see her being more than a bit of a snob in social situations, through snide, dual-meaning remarks and invitation snubs and the like as she resorted to the snotty tactics of a dorm full of Slytherin six-year girls. He didn’t worry about this for a moment as Hermione’s own clever, cutting wit was more than capable of verbally eviscerating Astoria should the need arise. In fact, he thought that he might actually find a confrontation between them amusing, having no doubt that Hermione would come out on top.

His thoughts turned to the Potters. He didn’t doubt Ginny’s support at all. She had turned out to be an unexpected ally. Potter himself, however, Draco just couldn’t get a read on. Their previous interactions before Potter had found out about his relationship with Hermione hadn’t been particularly warm but had been professional and reasonably courteous. Then came the late-night visit after Ginny had told her husband about Draco and Hermione, that interaction had been something odd, falling somewhere between professional and friendly. And after that came the conversation they had after Draco met Rose and Hugo, a conversation that had been downright friendly. Draco still didn’t quite know how to take it all, but he did think Hermione would be pleased that he and Potter were able to be alone in the same room without hexes flying.

The corner of Draco’s mouth curled up into the sneer that had been his trademark in his school days as he thought of Ron Weasley’s reaction. He honestly did not care if Weasley accepted his relationship with Hermione or not. The stupid fool had had his chance to love her like he ought to have had, actually he had several chances if Draco wanted to put a finer point on it as Hermione had forgiven not one but two of Weasley’s indiscretions before divorcing him after the third. Draco couldn’t fathom the idea of cheating on his wife. Even with as bad as things had gotten with Astoria he had never considered going outside his marriage, not once. It just wasn’t in his nature.

His weariness started to overtake him so Draco closed the box and safely tucked the ring in his trouser pocket, coincidently the pocket that still held a softly beating red crystal heart, before he pulled his chair closer to the bed and took Hermione’s hand in his. That his other hand was firmly clasped around the wand in his lap was a given. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to doze.

\-----

The next morning found Draco still sitting in “his” chair. His head was tipped back over the top of the chair back and his eyes were open as he stared at the multitude of stains and cracks on the ceiling. He sighed heavily. This part of the hospital was in dire need of refurbishment, something that would be his next good works project once the expansion was completed and they had new rooms in which to put patients while these were stripped bare and rebuilt.

His mind wandered to the expansion project and all that he still had to do for it. His briefcase, brought to him by a most worried Timly, was full of parchment for the project needing his attention.

Alongside that stack of documents, there was another, albeit smaller, parchment stack clipped together in there. Which, while being another building project for him to oversee and one that _would_ ultimately benefit the general public, was actually personal and something he was most looking forward to doing. It was to be a wedding gift for Hermione, one he hadn’t hesitated to start the very same day he ordered her ring so confident was he that she would say yes to his proposal.

He had purchased a dilapidated multi-story building close to the hospital. His architect was drawing up final plans to convert said dilapidated building into a library. And this would not be just any library but rather a library for the healing arts. As her classmate Draco hadn’t known that Hermione’s Muggle parents had been well-educated healers and it had surprised him when he learned it from a press release when she became Minister of Magic. It had also saddened him when he had found out that she had oblivated them and sent them far away from the war and Voldemort’s reach, an oblivation that had she never had the chance to reverse as her parents were killed in a completely ordinary Muggle boating accident mere months after she sent them away.

 _The Granger Memorial Library for the Healing Arts_ would be fine tribute to his late future in-laws. Draco grinned when he thought about the night he had asked her to tell him about them. And she had, sitting cross-legged on her side of his bed wearing naught but his undershirt she had commandeered and looking as well-shagged as they both were, Hermione shared stories and anecdotes and her most precious childhood memories. As an adult and a parent, Draco could readily admit that her parents sounded like fine people who genuinely loved their daughter. And really, how could they not have been given the moral caliber, strength, and compassion that made up the woman he loved.

His grin turned a little lecherous as he recalled how that evening had ended. She had shared the story of her father being bitten by by some boy named Robby Fenwick. Draco had laughed at the tale and teased about her poor father and that it sounded like Robby Fenwick could give a baby mandrake a run for its money. Hermione had stilled for a moment, almost as if hit by a stunning hex, before launching at his headboard-reclining self and kissing him with intent. She had barely even given him time to breathe as she straddled his lap and pressed herself against him, her tongue teased his and her fingers tangled in his hair. Though recently sated, his erection was soon back and prodding at her folds. Without so much as a pause in kissing him, she had shifted and taken his length inside her in one move. She set a hard and fast pace as she rode him wantonly, the most wanton he had ever seen her in fact. There had been little he could do but hold onto her and try to keep up with her. Her release, when it came, was strong and protracted as was his when it hit him at the tail end of hers. When their breathing had returned to normal, Draco managed to find enough moisture in his mouth to ask her what had he said to bring that on. Hermione had nestled against his side with her head on his shoulder, her finger once again drawing those damn tingly runes on his skin, and explained that he was the only one to ever laugh at that story about her father. She went on to explain about how mortified she had been at Slughorn’s little Hogwarts dinner party where the room had gone silent and everyone had stared at her like she had sprouted feathers. Draco had pressed a kiss to the top of her head and teased lightly that the two of them obviously had a much more refined sense of humor than anyone in the Slug Club. She had giggled and promptly fallen asleep against him. He had pulled the covers over her and let sleep claim him as well.

Draco swallowed hard when his fond recollection ended. He turned his head without lifting it to the bed beside him and the still unconscious woman there. She had to wake up. They had so many more memories like that to make. So many more.

He returned his attention to the ceiling and thought about the library-to-be. The property had a patch of space behind it that once upon a time had grown grass. Draco wanted to turn it into a proper garden with flowers and trees and benches for visitors to be able to enjoy it all.

With a little smirk he pointed his wand at the ceiling and covered it with meticulously mower-striped grass. A few flicks later and there were miniature stately trees and lilac bushes, Hermione’s favorite flower. He went on to add his wanted benches and other plants, greenery, and a relaxing fountain. Bit by bit he built the garden he intended to make real and hid the ugly stained ceiling. With another little flick of his wand, the clean, crisp smell of the grass permeated the room around them banishing all the antiseptic hospital smells.

He smiled when he was done and made a mental note that perhaps all the hospital room ceilings should be charmed so patients would have something pleasant to look at while recuperating, but it would certainly be a project for another day, perhaps one he could convince his mother to take on, she had a deft hand with charm work and a good eye for detail.

He sat up and reached for his briefcase. He pulled out the expansion project file and placed it on the rolling bedside table he commandeered to use as a desk, laying his wand beside it at the ready. He looked at his stack of work and signed. Picking up his wand, he stood and went to the sink in the corner and splashed some water on his face to wake himself up a bit more. He ran his tongue over his teeth and grimaced at how disgusting they felt. He summoned his travel kit from the corner where he had dropped his mother’s carpet bag out of the way of the healers and pulled out his toothbrush and the tube of Muggle toothpaste that Hermione had gotten him hooked on using. He rather liked the taste of spearmint and had been using it for months now.

In sort order his face was washed, his hair combed, and his teeth brushed. He felt a bit more put together and ready to tackle his paperwork. He sat down and got to work.

Draco was concentrating so hard on the parchment in front of him that he _almost_ missed the soft, “…love lilacs…,” that came from the bed.

tbc...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To address some emails and messages I’ve received, this story has not been abandoned. I do not write stories beginning to end, instead I write scenes as I get inspired. I have much more written already, but I still have to write the parts to connect them all. Thank you to everyone following this story, the response has been positive and I can’t thank you all enough for all the kudos and kind words. -CJ aka WritinginCT


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